Autumn Dreams
by Coxcomb in Summer
Summary: Jim hadn't worked out, but there would be others. "Why would you tattoo your arms with such sad emotions?" she asked. Mr. Dark retracted his arm. "Happier ones disagree with me."
1. Prologue

**Jonathan Pryce as Mr. Dark, of course.**

 **Prologue**

Night descended on the town, shadows stretching like phantoms over streets and lawns. The neighborhood was quiet at this hour—rural, dark, wind blowing across fields and trees. The atmosphere suited Claudia Green perfectly as she emerged from the woods south of town. She took a shortcut across farmland, crickets and peepers singing in the dark. It was far too late for others to be out.

She paused as she neared the road into town. There, in the field behind the schoolhouse where the ball diamond sat, were tents. It wasn't unusual for a fair or carnival to be held each summer, but summer was nearly gone, and there had been no tents when she'd started her evening stroll.

Strange. How was that even possible?

She peered through the darkness. There were no lights, no sounds to indicate activity. Against the stars stood the silhouette of a ferris wheel and white stripes on canvas roofs. She observed a moment longer before returning home to a small shop with attached rooms. She passed her parents' house on the way. Most of her belongings were still there, tucked away in her childhood room, but a certain privacy and lack of pressure came with holding her own quarters elsewhere. It was a topic of conversation amongst town folk—the price paid for such a relatively small community.

Claudia stopped as a piece of paper drifted across her path. Snatching it up, she smiled. "Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show." Now that certainly sounded interesting and unusual for a carnival. Pandemonium, she mused. She took the paper inside with her.


	2. Day 1

**DAY 1**

In the morning light, the nighttime setup of the carnival seemed even more improbable. Claudia strolled between quiet rides, watching workers inflate balloons for dart games or touch up paint on the signs. These were minor preparations though, not an overworking of what she'd assumed had been a hastily erected scaffolding from the night before.

She paused before a grand tent, and peeked inside at an even grander carousel, the painted horses bringing a smile to her face. She'd forgotten just how beautifully painted rides could be! Already, her hands itched to lift her skirt for a run to the nearest horse. Oh, but her mother would chuckle at that, a grown woman flouncing about painted animals. Perhaps she could convince the old woman to give it a try.

"Claudia!"

She jumped as a hand tugged her braid, feet quickly pivoting to swat away the intrusive hands. A young man near her own age grinned down at her, a new moustache gracing his upper lip. The hat looked new too.

"Stop that!" she laughed. "You'll need that energy for Susan. She's a right fiend for carnivals."

"Best to scope out the fun now then. I like being prepared. And _you_ ," he intoned. "Aren't you a little old for sneaking around the carnival before it opens?"

"Aren't you a little old for tugging on braids? This isn't the playground."

"Ah, but no one's around to see us being childish," he winked. "We still have a few more years before we're expected to be fully dignified."

"I run my own business," she smugly scoffed. "I _am_ dignified."

"Still no ring though," he said with a cluck of his tongue. "Shame."

She sighed with a smile, glancing once more at the carousel. A woman barely twenty wasn't exactly off the market, but people were beginning to ask when she would settle down and start a family. Mark had Susan. Poppy had Jerold. And on and on.

"Charles is nice," she offered.

"I'm not your mother," Mark dismissed. "You don't need to make your comments to me. I must say though…No, it isn't my place."

"Just say it."

"Maybe staying here wouldn't be so bad. We're not the smallest town on earth. We've got forests, fields, a bank, hotel…You're still hoping to leave, aren't you?

"…I don't know…"

Mark had been to the city, and from what she could tell, didn't think much of it. Staring at the white horse directly across from her, she was reminded of paintings found in a library book. Arabian racing horses. Dates, palms, and sand glistening in the sun.

"Look what you've done," she exhaled. "You've ruined the mood, you terrible person."

"I tell you what," he whispered. "How about we sneak a quick ride on the merry-go-round, and no one will be the wiser. You can help me pick the best horse for Susan."

"Don't encourage me to—"

"Excuse me," a male voice interrupted.

Both she and Mark straightened, turning at the sound. There stood a man in a full suit and vest of blackest black, a white dress shirt peeking out from beneath. A crimson ribbon encircled his collar, the head of a polished cane catching the sunlight. The look was completed with a top hat perched above lean features and dark hair.

He was attractive, Claudia decided. Not less than thirty, but no more than forty. Everything was finely trimmed—perfectly tailored—from his beard to the shine on his shoes. She found the intensity of his dark eyes surprising.

"We won't open until tonight," he curtly informed them.

"Our apologies," Mark offered. "We were too excited to wait."

"We're just sneaking a look," Claudia added.

Mark's hand grazed the sleeve of her blouse, drawing her attention.

"I'd best be going. I'm sure we'll bump into each other later." He titled his head in acknowledgment of the man opposite them. "Good day, sir. I look forward to returning at operating hours."

Claudia returned her gaze to the stranger as Mark departed. He'd never been much for confrontations, and it did seem that they'd somehow annoyed the carnival workers, or at least this one. In an effort to make it right, she gave him her best smile.

"We didn't mean any harm. Honestly, I rather drew Mark over for a look at your carousel. Magnificent craftsmanship." And she meant it. For a moment, it even felt as though the horses had real eyes that sought her out, pinning her with sharp gazes that pricked her skin. She shook the feeling aside as the stranger drew closer, his cane shifting hands.

"A lot of time and effort went into its creation," the man spoke. He pulled the tent door wider with his cane, affording her a better look. Just as suddenly, he closed it. "You'll need to return tonight for a ride, when we're open."

"I suppose so, now that I know it's worth coming back."

At that, the man smiled, but it wasn't warm.

"I assure you, it is." He removed his hat and extended a hand. "I believe introductions or in order. G.M. Dark." Claudia accepted the hand and found his grip strong.

"Claudia Green. And does the G stand for something, Mr. Dark? Or should I address you as a man of business?"

She could imagine her parents cringing at her forwardness, and it only made her smile widen. He _was_ rather handsome, wasn't he? But somehow cold. There was no warmth in his gaze as he considered her, as if she'd crossed some invisible line of transgression. Strange. She wouldn't have expected someone in his line of work to be as strict about formalities as the banker.

"Garrett," he answered. "And as it happens, I am a man of business."

"Very well, Mr. Dark," she corrected herself. "You are the "Dark" from the advertisement?"

"Yes. The carnival is my venture, but Mr. Cooger has a claim as well." And at that, he must have caught her stifled smile. "May I ask what is so amusing, Miss Green?"

Any amusement died at his serious tone, but a gentle smile remained as she looked up at him.

"I don't meant to be rude, but I didn't expect such a well-dressed and proper man to be running a carnival." Oh her parents would be losing their heads in embarrassment over this. "You, sir, have expensive taste in suits—so different from most people around here." Considering the cheap-looking costumes gracing the other carnival workers, Dark's appearance was even sharper. Claudia had to admire his ensemble.

"Everyone dresses for their part," he stated. "Frills and color for the fools. Silks for the whores."

Whores? Not a word she'd ever heard uttered outside of a book. Perhaps she'd given him too much credit for being proper.

"Suits for the businessman and boss then," she awkwardly concluded, shifting her weight. "Well, Mr. Dark, it's a very fitting choice for you." And so very different from most people she knew. Dark struck her as the town's opposite in mood and style, standing before her as a traveling man in an impressive suit. He tipped his hat in recognition of the compliment.

Good. She hadn't offended him with what she now realized might have sounded like flirting. Slightly proud of herself for pulling the conversation off without making a complete fool of herself, she stood taller. Immediately, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a half-smile. It wasn't comforting.

Of course, she inwardly bemoaned. He'd probably been so many places and met so many different types of people. He could probably peg her as a country bumpkin so easily, never mind her polite tones and attempt at being, admittedly, extra friendly. How many places had he traveled anyway, the lucky man?

His gaze sharpened further, that cold smile still in place.

"It's been a pleasure, Miss Green. If you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to. I wouldn't want the town to be disappointed tonight."

"Of course," she agreed. "Don't let me keep you."

"I hope you'll join us."

She smiled in reply, wanting to both stay and depart. For a moment, she'd felt…what? Wary. Something about him just now had made her want to put distance between them.

"By the way, if you'd like that tear fixed, I can do it," she said. "I'm in the tailoring shop on the corner of Market Street. I wouldn't want your impeccable image getting tarnished."

With that, she left. She had a business to run, after all.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Just a moment," Claudia called. She yawned from where she sat sketching, arching her back to stretch. There'd been no customers today, and she didn't feel inspired to undertake any new dresses for the window display. All she'd managed was a page of sketches for suits of blackest black with red accents. No, she thought. No one would be interested in some of her less traditional designs.

"Morning, mom," she greeted, opening the front door. "You don't need to knock, you know."

"Oh, I thought you might be out," the woman dismissed. "Such an unexpected delight for a carnival to roll in yet this season. They must have come in on the last train yesterday. It's strange though. I don't remember hearing or seeing anything until after breakfast."

"Yes. They seem rather…quiet and formal for carnival folks."

"Formal?"

"Just not the usual picture of a traveling band."

Her mother hummed in answer, setting a box of cookies on the worktable, replete with a carefully tied handkerchief. The woman's dark hair was shot through with gray and white, and pulled into a bun. She would have been the portrait of a matronly figure but for several splashes of bright color—a blue ribbon around her bun, and bright flowers embroidered on her collar. There was a spark of energy in her limbs as she yanked the kerchief knot free with a flourish.

"Ginger snaps," she announced. "Your favorite."

"Thanks, mom."

"I see you're back in your trousers." Claudia smiled as she bit into a cookie.

"You know I always wear them in the shop."

"And at night when you're sneaking about."

"It's hardly sneaking. I like going for walks sometimes. You sit on the porch. I walk."

She could hear a tired comment jumping up her mother's throat before the woman swallowed it back down. Instead, wrinkled hands picked up the abandoned sketch. Claudia busied herself with another cookie.

"I like it," her mother stated.

"No one will commission it."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe one of those carnival types since they're more formal."

They shared a smile, Claudia gently pulling the sketch free from her mother and setting it aside.

"Charles told everyone at the parlor this morning that you haven't been coming around. And Simon said you were flirting with him last week, right before rejecting his dinner offer. You're starting to get a reputation…" Claudia gave her mother a dour expression as she intentionally rolled her pant legs up her calves in a most unladylike fashion, revealing bare feet and light skin.

"It wasn't flirting." Or at least, she didn't really think so. "We were sharing a conversation and some laughs. That's all. Charles…is nice." She winced at the echo of the same words she'd said earlier that day.

"I suppose we could keep an eye out for someone horrid, if you'd prefer."

The front door gently clicked, so softly that she would have missed it if not for a very black suit against sunlight. The conversation hung unfinished.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Claudia couldn't shake the feeling that Dark had been present longer than acknowledged. His movements had barely made a sound. He glanced at her mother, pausing as their eyes locked.

"Not at all," Claudia lied, shifting further behind the worktable to hide her rolled pant legs. Her feet worked to roll them back down. "We'll talk later, mom."

"Come for dinner, if you're not busy with the carnival." The woman smiled at Dark. There wasn't a soul in town she didn't know. "Betty Green."

"Dark."

"He owns the carnival, mom. With some share going to Mr. Cooger, of course."

"The carnival?" Her mother's eyebrows arched. "I see. Best wishes, Mr. Dark."

Claudia angled a smile at Dark as the door closed being her mother.

"I'm afraid you're not going to get an invite to Sunday lunch, Mr. Dark. But if you don't tell her, you can have some of these cookies."

"Tell me, is it the nomadic or carnival lifestyle that most repels her?" he quarried.

"Both?" Claudia thought aloud, but she didn't wish to continue the line of conversation at her mother's expense. "What can I help you with?"

"Interesting, isn't it?" he ignored, lifting a cookie. "Good people would refuse others for lunch based on rumors and a difference as slight as wanting to see the world. Ah, but I suppose you might also find the traveling lifestyle strange…or perhaps not."

His gaze lingered on hers almost knowingly, evoking an alarm that was surprisingly alluring. Her pulse jumped. He watched.

"I try not to judge others for living a life they want."

"How unchristian of you." She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept talking. "It's my impression that congregations gather mostly for the pleasure of gossiping about one another afterward, over lunch."

"…How very cynical of you."

His eyebrows arched in what felt like mock surprise as he pulled off his gloves and laid them on the worktable. For the first time, she saw the edges of colorful tattoos around his wrists, but she thought little of them at the moment. His blunt words were more shocking. People didn't speak like that to strangers, maybe not at all. They were whisperings between good friends, but this man…he didn't seem to care one wit about sharing his opinion.

There was truth to what he said—not nearly the whole truth, but truth all the same.

"You pointed this out yesterday." He lifted his arm to show her the tear in his sleeve. "I'll have it mended by tonight for good payment."

"Hmm," Claudia hummed, moving closer to take the coat as he pulled it off. His vest and shirt fit snuggly over a slender frame. Without the hat, she noted how thick and dark his hair was. Again, a splash of green at his wrist caught her eye.

"What counts as good payment?" she joked. "A free ride on the carousel?"

"Perhaps. It depends on what you want." He ate another cookie as she laid his jacket out on the table. What she wanted. She'd known yesterday, but right now, her thoughts were rather jumbled. She pushed up her sleeves, wondering how her trousers struck him, well-dressed as he was. He didn't say a thing. He didn't even seem to notice.

"I'll have it done soon," she stated. "I can bring it to the carnival, if you'd like."

She glanced up when he didn't depart. He'd found her sketch.

"An interesting design," he commented.

Was it obvious that he had inspired it? She was probably blushing, and kept her face angled toward her work.

"I guess the carnival made me want some color in my suits."

"How long would it take to make this one?"

He pointed at the top sketch—the one most reminiscent of him, but with subtle shades in the suit itself at accent points. It would look good on him.

"Not long. I could have it done before the carnival leaves town. It would just mean less play and more work while everyone else is eating cotton candy."

"We can't have that then," he deadpanned.

"I hate cotton candy," she gently laughed. He still hadn't spared a glance for her pants, and she found it oddly flattering, not to mention his interest in her designs. "Mother liked that one best as well, I think."

"The two of you don't get along as well as you'd like."

It wasn't a question, nor an invitation to elaborate. How long had he been standing there, listening to them? Claudia thought it uncanny that Dark would even make such a comment.

"We get along fine," she countered.

"I'm sure you do." Finally, his eyes trailed to her pants, however briefly.

"Do you always say exactly what you think, Mr. Dark?"

"Almost never."

His cold smile had returned, and she found herself unable to move. There was that allure again, the promise of stories and mystery. She wanted to move away, but didn't, even as he leaned closer to retrieve his gloves from beside her.

"Would you like to leave this place, Claudia? What if, instead of working in this humdrum bed, someone gave you a free ride?"

"There's no such thing as a free ride," she automatically responded.

"Some prices might be better than keeping a jar of coins."

She inhaled, envisioning the jar she kept locked in her dresser. Every spare coin and dollar went inside, but the shop required so much for materials, and she was still paying her father back for the place, even if he didn't want the money.

"Do you have a wishing lamp, Mr. Dark?" she asked, hating how strained the joke sounded.

"I don't need one. I have reality."

"And a new suit, if you'd like."

The change in topic felt safe.

"It's most ungentlemanly, Mr. Dark, to eat so many gingersnaps while making vague comments. Are you suggesting I run away and join the circus? Besides, you still haven't paid for this exchange. Never mind making another."

She was enjoying this, she realized. He couldn't honestly be suggesting anything as ridiculous as her becoming a trapeze artist.

"Are you asking me for money? How very dull." He leaned closer. "Some payments are more…desirable than green bills. Papers turns to dust so easily." He stepped away again, putting his hat back on and grabbing his cane. "But if you'd prefer, I'll pay the asking price as advertised in your window."

"I'll take it."

"You should come tonight, Miss Green."

"I'll need to if you want your jacket."

"I'll be waiting."

He departed as silently as he'd come, and had left a single coin on the counter.


	3. Night 1

**NIGHT 1**

Mr. Dark stood outside the Dust Witch's tent, his customary cane missing. He glanced inside at the newest arrival, catching a man's eager reflection in her crystal ball. The carnival buzzed with so many gasping dreams. A young boy trailing behind older children dreamed of growing up. An older lady yearned for her arthritis to heal so she could play the hammer game with her grandkids. Dark caught a particularly heady grasping at lust: a man's desire to bed his friend's wife.

The prey was plentiful, but only the strongest of desires called for abuse. The stronger the longing, the easier the manipulation, the harder the fall. It took more careful prying to crack certain shells.

And where was his expected guest? He checked his pocket watch with a flare of annoyance. The carnival had opened thirty minutes ago.

There she was. He recognized her by the auburn hair and easy gait. She wore a dress now, so simple for a tailor that he would have expected more. He waited for her to notice him, and let her do the walking.

* * *

The sun was sinking as Claudia made her way through the carnival, now milling with townspeople. It wasn't terribly busy, but Claudia thought it a good turnout considering that the first nights belonged to those most eager to attend. She walked with Dark's jacket draped over one arm, carefully avoiding contact with any of the activity around her. His stare had continually popped into her mind while working, that strangely penetrating manner of his impossible to forget. She dearly hoped that he confirmed his interest in a new suit.

A mirror maze stood ahead of her, light dancing against its smooth panes. She paused to watch a former teacher climb the stairs to the entrance. His crutches and missing leg stood out amongst the crowd, the limb having fallen victim to a car accident.

Why Claudia watched so closely, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was the swaying of strung lights around the entrance or his seeming determination to get up the stairs as quickly as possible. She blinked in confusion as a flash of light struck her gaze, subtle and quick. For a moment, she could have sworn the crutches fell and the man walked, but no. That wasn't right. The light was merely playing tricks on her, and the teacher had vanished inside, surely with his crutches.

She stole away toward the rear of the carnival, where she hoped to find Dark's quarters, but there was no need. She spotted him standing aside of the crowd, watching the carnival's activity, face stern, eyes flicking from person to person, sometimes following one particular individual for whatever reason. He looked just as sleek without his jacket, his severity clashing with the clowns and merrymakers.

How had someone like him come into possession of a carnival?

He spotted her, but lifted not a foot.

"I apologize for the delay," she said, drawing closer. "I was pulling together material for a new suit, if you're still interested. I refined the design. I only need your measurements." She lifted his jacket. "Good as new."

He took the jacket and arranged it on his shoulders, offering no thanks.

"I am most gratified you came," he said. "I'll make it worth your while."

"About the payment…"

"I'm a man of my word, Miss Green. Usually, at least."

With a slight smile, he pulled neatly rolled bills from his pocket. She began reaching for them, but paused, fingers grazing the paper. A minor repair like that didn't cost much.

"I think you should perhaps keep your money, sir," she decided. A slight buzz played with her nerves as she withdrew her hand. "If you show me around the carnival, I'll call it even."

He stared at her. Hard. His eyes were a muddy green.

"How…forward," he mused.

"Oh," she stumbled, unsure what he was assuming. "I didn't mean…nothing untoward. What must you think of me?" she laughed. "I was under the impression that you wouldn't mind a bit of…well, being forward. What I really mean, Mr. Dark, is that I wasn't planning to stay tonight and haven't come with anyone. This is your show, so who better to give me a quick tour?"

"So I'm in fact the last option of the evening, not the first."

He said it so flatly. She couldn't tell if he was offended or not.

"You must take pride in throwing people off balance," she decided. "I can always take the money."

For a moment, she really thought he might prefer that. His hesitation had her question their candor, but with a flash, the money was tucked away. With the smoothness of a showman, he tilted his head and motioned her forward.

"This way, Miss Green."

"Claudia, please."

"Very well."

Claudia fell into step beside him.

"This is the freak show, if you've any interest. Their abnormalities make them spectacles, marking them as outcasts by force or choice. They wear their faults plainly."

"Choice? Do they choose to outcast themselves and come to you?"

A woman with a beard peered out at her from inside the tent.

"Of course," Dark clipped. "The choice to join has always been theirs. They can remain with like kinds here. If your mother won't invite me to lunch, what makes you think she'd have a man with scales? My point is not to offend," he cautioned. "Merely to point out that accepting life as an outcast offers opportunity. Choosing your own life has merit, wouldn't you agree?"

He was interesting. She would give him that. It was easy company to walk and listen to his brief descriptions of the attractions, and she was mostly focused on the way he talked and not the actual sights. He disparaged and praised, mixing blunt assessments with an appreciation for practicality. The clowns were fit for nothing more than clowning, yet effective at drawing coin from guests. Too many colors mixed together were gaudy, but created the right atmosphere. His voice rang smooth and steady, although he said nothing between attractions.

"This will be of interest to you," he announced, stopping before the same mirror maze that had previously caught her attention. "Have you been in one before?"

"Several."

"Not one like this. I guarantee it."

She was taken aback by a sharp scent from the entrance. It was sweet and unfamiliar, and ringing in her ears came the rush of ocean waves. Unthinking, she took a step closer, intrigued. The outside mirrors caught her reflection, and Dark's. He was right behind her shoulder, and for the first time, she realized that he was a full head taller than her. She turned as a masked figure in flowing robes ambled up to him and whispered quickly.

His expression darkened.

"So find someone else to do it."

The figure replied, barely audible to Claudia. Dark tapped his cane harshly on the ground, dismissing the man with look dark enough to match his suit. The figure practically bowed in his retreat.

"This is where I leave you, Miss Green. I'm afraid there is a cake-eating contest to officiate, and it seems my assistant is preoccupied. I leave you with my favorite of the attractions. Do take your time. It's best enjoyed when the crowds are smaller."

"Thank you, Mr. Dark, for the tour."

She found it amusing that he should so object to a cake-eating contest. Perhaps, after years of overseeing them, he'd grown to detest them.

She was sorry to see him go as she entered the mirror maze. It would have been better to have company for such a bizarre twisting of reflections, and admittedly, Dark's in particular. There would be talk about her traveling the carnival with the tall, dark stranger tomorrow, but for that, she felt no regret. How much of an outcast did he feel in polite company? Surely the choice was entirely his own with his impeccable image. Perhaps he used speech to intentionally upset others—to spurn them. She couldn't decide whether it was a completely devil-may-care attitude or a true intent to insult.

For a moment, she caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the mirrors, but laughter distracted her. A couple was laughing somewhere ahead of her, and it sounded like Mark and Susan. What luck!

Claudia hurried around a corner and then another, but found herself entirely alone. Oddly enough, the way was becoming difficult to find. It wasn't just the mirrors, she decided, but the angled, sometimes narrow passageways. It didn't take long to become utterly lost. How had they packed so many passages into a single building? It hadn't appeared overly large from the outside.

Emerging into a circular room, she froze, breath catching in her throat. The mirrors no longer reflected her image. Instead, an ocean crashed into perfectly white sand, water rushing toward her feet. So realistic was the scene that she moved backwards to avoid wet feet.

"It's not real," she spoke to convince herself. "It's not possible."

But a breeze moved her skirt, and spray touched her face. It was when a ship appeared on the horizon that she realized why the scene was so familiar. She'd seen this in a book. Tahiti. There'd been a painting of the beach and that ship with the billowing sails. She'd checked it out of the library time and again growing up—had promised herself that the ocean would be her first trip anywhere.

This was all too strange. She didn't feel feverish or confused, so why couldn't she stop staring? She walked toward the water—let it wash over her ankles. Her feet were wet. She wiggled her toes against the very real water, and with a building sense of dread, retreated. This wasn't real. It couldn't be, and if it wasn't, she had no idea what was happening.

She spun away from the room and fled, but her feet led her right into a wall. Smacking against the mirrors, she braced herself and looked down to find her feet dry. Not real. Definitely not real. Her nerves settled as she steadied herself.

"Claudia," a voice breathed.

"Mr. Dark?"

She looked into the mirrors once more. His reflection wasn't perfect. It was blurry, only hinting at his identity, and no one stood behind her to make it in the first place. One gloved hand extended toward her, and in it, was a ticket.

Now she wondered if perhaps she wasn't asleep. The man was removing his jacket and unbuttoning his cuffs. The fact that he repeated a line from that dreadful story she'd salvaged from the trash one day would have been comical if she didn't feel so disorientated. It was just like a scene she wasn't supposed to have read. That's why mother had been so angry about the mailman passing along such cheap entertainment in the first place.

She still had the small book, but hadn't pulled it from the dresser for awhile.

She moved away from the image before her. Had she hit her head somewhere to be seeing such unreal things?

 _I need fresh air._

The last of summer's heat, coupled with whatever tricks the mirrors held, were clearly taking a toll on her.

* * *

Claudia walked from the maze hurriedly, unsure how she'd even found her way out. Once she'd decided to leave, it'd been surprisingly simple, even obvious. Back amidst the crowd, she purchased candied walnuts and ate a handful under the now darkened sky. There were more people now, and a few that stopped to chat with her. It felt so incredibly normal that her nerves eased. It had been a good evening—better than good. It wasn't every day that routine was so disheveled.

She spotted an abandoned pair of crutches leaning against a nearby booth, and slowed her steps.

"Claudia!"

Mark tapped her shoulder, beaming with Susan at his side.

"Oh. Hi."

"I heard you two got scolded for sneaking around early," Susan laughed.

"It was him," Claudia smiled. "He wanted me to turn on the carousal."

"Wouldn't have worked," he shrugged. "It's broken right now."

Dark hadn't shown her the carousal, she realized. She'd been looking forward to that.

"You seem a bit dazed," Susan noted. "Everything alright?"

"Of course. I just…the mirror maze was little intense. I got lost."

"In there?" Mark questioned. The building was rather unimpressive from outside. "For shame, woman."

Claudia laughed, full and long. It _was_ embarrassing.

"Would you believe that I actually panicked a little? I'm such a fool. Why don't you two go on? I think that I'm done for the night."

"But…"

"No but's. I'll see you two later."

Susan was probably a little relieved anyway. Mark was so prone to inviting friends on outings that a few dates had no doubt been complicated from Susan's perspective.

Claudia stole through the back of the carnival, slipping between tents amidst the darkness. It was cooler here, and not far from a forested path used by the farmhands. It would make for a good distraction and end to the evening. She needed to escape the colors and lights for a moment, if only to completely dispel the visions she'd seen.

She glanced at the unlit tents around her—no doubt for the workers—and thought of the jar in her dresser. She had enough for a ticket and several hotels at least. That should have been enough. She'd always thought as much, but had yet to buy a ticket. How much more would passage to Tahiti cost? Mark said the cities were filled with unfortunate souls too poor to leave and yet miserable in staying.

The carnival lifestyle admittedly held an appeal she'd appreciated before. It wasn't for people like her though.

 _You're not running away to join the carnival_ , she scoffed. It was the dream of a child. Still, was the beach so different? Her emotions jumped upon themselves with abandon until she was no longer sure what she wanted.

With a sigh, she reached the last of the tents. She would have passed immediately if not for a low moan. It came from inside the tent beside her, the entrance untied. When a second moan escaped, this one strangled as if in pain, she approached but didn't enter, merely peeking inside.

"Hello?" she called. "Are you okay in there?

A hand snatched at her ankle, making her jump. She hadn't seen the figure in the dark, but could now distinguish a man on his side, face contorted in a grimace as he shook.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Sir?"

She knelt beside and turned him, finding his eyes abnormally dark. She didn't want to hold his hand. It was damp with something, but he gripped her wrist in what felt like desperation, and she gently pried the fingers loose. Peering more closely at his face, she gasped. His eyes weren't dark. They were gone. Empty sockets greeted her gaze, dried blood crusting the edges.

She looked down at her hand, and found a small, dark stain against her pale flesh.

"Help…me…" he mumbled.

"O…okay," she breathed. "You're going to be okay. I'm going to get help. I'll…"

Approaching voices scared her into movement. Someone had done this to him—someone who might be coming back right now. People did not just lose both eyes like that for nothing. She scurried into the shadows, crouching behind a cot and trunk, and held her breath.

"Still wallowing in self-pity," a woman's voice practically sang.

Claudia's pulse pumped as she peeked around the cot, praying that the darkness concealed her. A woman in the gauzy clothes of a fortuneteller stood nearby, dark skin standing out against the white and purple silks. Her face was obscured by the darkness, but her steps were clearly unhurried. One hand reached out to stroke the fallen man's hair.

"You brought it upon yourself," the woman hissed. "You'll recover. You'll see. We just need to do something about your clothing."

The man's mumbling died as he shrunk away from being touched. For a moment, the woman simply stared, her head briefly turning in Claudia's direction. Claudia ducked down, straining to hear sounds of movement. The silks might not so much as rustle in the still air, now dead with tension.

"Get some sleep," a voice breathed, almost comforting.

There was an undertone that made Claudia's stomach turn. Daring to look once more, she found the woman gone, but couldn't bring herself to move. She stared fixedly at the door, hands shaking. The woman should have wanted to take the man to hospital, but had left him. She had never felt such fear in her life, not when falling from a tree nor bumping into a bear outside town. There could be no innocent explanation for this—no pleasant reason for the chill that clung to her bones in the woman's departure.

Silently, she finally fumbled for a grip on the fallen man.

"Come on, sir," she whispered. "I'll get you to the hospital."

She feared his grumbles too loud, but he moved, and she staggered under his weight. Together, they navigated out of the tent and directly toward the forest. It wasn't far, yet felt an eternity away. In the tall grass overgrowing the field's edge, she tumbled against a tree and looked behind them. There was no sign of movement or pursuit, thank god.

"We've got to get to town," she told him. "You need to walk."

His legs seemed unlikely to comply as she nearly fell under his weight. She made it a few yards down the wooded path before he pitched forward, hitting the ground.

"Sir," she begged. "Please." She shook his shoulder, but there was no response. "Please don't be dead. Please god. Don't…"

"Hurts…"

She breathed in relief, and rolled him over. From where he laid along the path in the grass, someone was unlikely to spot him. Again noticing her stained hand, she gagged and wiped it on the grass.

"I can't move you myself. I'm going to get help. Just hold on a moment, okay?"

Oh, but what if an animal attacked him in the dark? Or that woman could come back! Claudia knew panic was getting the best of her.

Instead of waiting for his response, she ran as fast as she could through the trees. Only when she was away from carnival's rear tents did she veer closer to the crowds. The sheriff or his deputy were almost always on hand for events. It was closer than their office. She frantically scanned the faces around her.

"Charles!" she called, waving.

She hurried closer and grabbed his hand. His face contorted in both shock and pleasure.

"Lord, Claudia. You look like you fell off a wagon."

"Please, Charles. Quickly. I need your help."

She tugged on his hand, pulling him away from the lights.

"Okay. With what? What's the hurry?"

"There's a man. He's hurt and can't walk. I don't know what to do."

She realized that she still held his hand and released it. He kept close to her side, perhaps sensing from her solemn demeanor that it was no time for talking.

"He's right up here by that stump. We can each take one arm and…"

Her voice trailed off as she searched the immediate area. Charles too poked around the grass and trees.

"I don't see anyone, Claudia. Are you sure he was injured? There's always someone drinking their way into the merriment."

"He was right here," she protested. "He couldn't walk anymore. He couldn't have just gone off."

"Did he smell like spirits?"

"No! That's not the point. His eyes…" She paused, chest tightening. "We can't just leave him out here, drunk or not."

"Alright. I understand. You take that side. I'll take this one. Oh, hey. Maybe they saw someone." And he pointed to the edge of the tents, where two figures were talking. Claudia blanched, unable to tell if they were looking in her direction.

"Let's just look a bit further and go. He can't have gone far."

She picked her way through the trees nearest the road, but kept glancing toward the tents. Everything was calm. Quiet. The two men across the way appeared to merely be sharing a smoke. Charles, without a word, began to approach them despite her protests.

"We might as well ask," he insisted. "I'm sure it's not a bother. Excuse me!" he called.

"Charles, wait!"

She couldn't hear the full conversation from her lingering distance, and felt terrible for it. Charles was being sensible, after all, but he hadn't stared into those empty sockets either. How had someone even so cleanly remove the eyes? She shuddered to think of it. Old Jackson in town had lost an eye, but it didn't look a thing like what she'd witnessed, glass replacement or not. He'd popped it out once to scare her on Halloween.

Charles returned soon enoug. She exhaled in relief.

"They haven't seen anyone. Sorry, Claudia. He'll probably come to and find his way home in the morning if not tonight."

"But I think something terrible happened to him. He was in pain."

"We can come look in the morning, if you'd like."

"Maybe," she agreed. "I'm going to stop by the station."

"In the morning," he gently insisted. "Think about it. The sheriff probably won't have any more luck in the dark than we did, and the man isn't even really missing. There are plenty of people still out this late. Come on. Let me walk you home."

She nodded, allowing him to lead her from the scene.

"Let's take the path," she spoke. "I don't think I can deal with the lights and sound right now."

Behind them, the carnival continued its colorful dance.

* * *

Two young men remained, their mouths smeared with icing, and determination in their eyes. It was nauseating really. One looked like a pig ready to be tied and hauled to slaughter, the other a butcher mistaking his cake for a proper battle. That the crowd cheered on the spectacle made it all the more tedious.

Dark ground his teeth together when more cake was ordered. There was satisfaction in watching the fools so pursue physical discomfort, but he was ready to be done here. There were more interesting games to be played. _This_. _This_ was what Cooger was for, but the man had been preoccupied with carrying an unfortunate soul to the back tents before a spectacle resulted.

He allowed himself a smile when the larger opponent barely managed to down another forkful of cake. It was about damn time.

"Ladies and gentleman," he announced. "I believe the battle is drawing to a close."

They cheered. He allowed himself a smile, but not for them. No. He could taste an exquisite longing in the air. It blossomed from the mirror maze and seeped into the very fabric of his suit. The tents quaked at its intensity.

Claudia was so close to caving. She wanted so badly to grab her dreams. He knew not what illusion she confronted, only the longing behind it. She wanted out of this town—to see the world. These buildings and fields were a prison that she loved, but oh how she yearned to break free. It was rare to uncover such intensity in a positive longing. Revenge, lust, and hate were so much closer to the surface and yet deeper in many souls. He hadn't known that Miss Green would possess such deep-seated discontent.

The seemingly content sometimes held the darkest depths for plumbing.

"Stop before you vomit on my carnival grounds," Dark hissed at the failing cake-eater.

The man looked to him with a sickened expression, but with a glower, retrieved his fork.

Insolent bastard.

Dark's fingers worked against his cane. The energy around him was shifting. It's intensity remained, but so convoluted were the desires that even he couldn't sort them apart. Plumbing the depths indeed. Following the tangle of emotions, he felt a prickly up his arms and a breath at his ear before the threads disintegrated. Something had gone wrong. The air became stale once more, and he would surely know why if not for this ugly fool with his damned fork and vanilla icing.

"You're done," Dark stated.

He struck the man on the calf with his cane, quick and hard, eliciting a yelp. The audience hadn't seen, and a fork clattered to the tabletop as desired.

"We have a winner!" Dark pronounced with a flourish, motioning toward the still eating opponent. He didn't stay for the vomiting that followed. Quick steps took him from the stage, and at the bottom waited the dust witch in her silks and rose perfume. In that quiet but graceful manner of hers, she learned closer.

"We have a problem."


	4. Day 2

**DAY 2**

Claudia awoke with a start. She'd been dreaming something dreadful but now indistinct. There'd been the beach again. Of that, she was certain. The waves had pummeled her into the sand until…until the train. There'd been a train. And Dark.

She laid in bed and watched the sun creep across the blankets. She'd opened the window last night for cool air, but couldn't recall laying a book there. She snatched it up when she realized what it was. _A Timely Encounter_. Or rubbish, as her mother called it. It probably was rubbish, but there was something to be said for the way the protagonist found herself in the arms of her knight.

 _I didn't read last night_ , she mused. She'd been at the carnival. The mirror maze. Mark and Susan. Dark offering her a ticket, but she didn't recall actually partaking in any of the attractions. It had been pleasurable, of course. The thought, while holding the cheap romance, made her blush, and she placed it back in her dresser.

The night was a bit fuzzy now, and that wasn't like her.

Eyeless sockets, she realized. That was it. Memories crashed down on her, breaking through a haze that seemed like so much cobweb now.

She dressed and hurried to the sheriff's office.

"Morning, sheriff. Deputy."

"And a good morning to you, miss. What can we do for you? You didn't lose this last night, did you?"

He held up a blue shawl.

"No. I'm afraid not. I was actually looking for a man. I'm not sure who he was, but he was stumbling around the woods outside the carnival last night. He had a head injury, but I couldn't find him when I went back with help. Have you heard anything about it?"

"I'm afraid not, miss."

"No reports of someone missing?"

"Not a one. Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Now hold on a minute," the deputy interjected. "They did take a patient at the hospital last night. I haven't gone over for the details yet, but some poor idiot got soused and accidentally fell. Maybe that's who you're looking for."

"I'll check. Thank you."

It wasn't a long walk to the hospital. The old bank with its columns had been converted some years ago and now sported a red cross over the door. It had been brought back by the head doctor following the Great War, and had stayed up ever since.

Claudia entered, shoes clicking on the stone floor, and followed directives toward the back hallway where patients with mild injuries were housed. Sunlight cast long shadows against white walls and floors, painting stripes through the window bars that remained from the banking days. Her blue dress flared against the pale shades. She didn't know what she would do if it was the eyeless man she encountered, nor if it wasn't.

She stopped short of entering the room. A dark suit had his back to her, a calm conversation transpiring between him and a nurse.

He half-turned to view her, and did not seemed surprised in the least.

"Miss Green," he greeted.

"...Mr. Dark. What brings you here?"

"Unpleasant business as you can see."

She entered, unsure how to feel. A man reclined in the bed, his upper face hidden in bandages.

"Mr. Yardly here imbibed a little too much merriment and fell onto machinery last night. He's lucky to be alive. If Cooger hadn't found him before the gears started turning, we might not be here right now. We're fortunate he finally passed out so we could get him here. The alcohol had him wandering off while Cooger fetched me."

"He'll need a good rest," the nurse spoke. "And some support…when he realizes what happened." She cast a glance at Claudia, briefly motioning to her eyes with a tight expression.

The man in bed released a soft snore, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Claudia balked, wondering whether she'd misinterpreted the whole affair last night. The man's fear had been real. _Hers_ had. And that woman in silk…the behavior had been all wrong for someone caring for the injured.

"So he'll be okay?" she questioned.

"He needs to stay here for the time being. We wouldn't want any complications," Dark explained, "but yes, he'll recover. We'll find a place for him, even if his juggling days are over."

"So he's one of yours?"

"Of course. I take a special interest in all my workers. And you, Miss Green? I hope nothing terrible brings you here."

"No. I heard someone was injured, but no one could tell me who. We're a small town," she elaborated, hoping her lie sounded believable. "We all know each other for the most part."

Dark's eyes trailed to the empty hallway behind her. "They'll need to put cords up to control the line."

"Just wait. There will be flowers and treats here by noon," she countered.

He was a black void against the tiles, eyebrows arching at her assertion. He certainly wasn't acting any differently than before, and there was no chance she'd admit panicking and helping the injured man in front of him, especially when she hadn't been feeling quite herself last night. Or this morning, she admitted.

"You are kind in your words," Dark dismissed. "I wonder if you would spare a few to tell me of your experience with the attractions last night. I hope you didn't fail to partake after such a delightful tour." He glanced at the nurse with a thin smile. "Not here, perhaps. It wouldn't do to discuss the frivolous in the face of tragedy. Mr. Yardly might take offense."

"Strange," Claudia couldn't help but speak. "That seems exactly like something you would enjoy, Mr. Dark—making someone take offense."

His eyebrows rose higher, but without a hint of reproach.

"Miss Green, you wound me."

"Claudia," she corrected. "You called someone's grandma a silly-headed daffodil last night. You can manage my first name, I'm sure."

The nurse glanced at them askance, making Claudia forgo further comment. This was rather improper in the face of what had happened, she supposed, the thought followed by a rush of shame. Dark simply met her eyes and began leaving.

It was surreal to walk with him after the night's events, and outside the carnival setting at that. She felt equal parts foolish and wary for misunderstanding events. There was a caution she couldn't deny. Dark was not the kind of man she was accustomed to, and the carnival had affected her in unusual ways, but she liked the sound of his polished shoes and how the sun caught his profile.

The woman she'd seen though—there was a person she hoped to never encounter again, no matter how or why the situation had unfolded.

They took pause in the shade of a column outside. It would be a warm day, too warm for his jacket, she thought. Emerald designs were embroidered at the edge of his cuffs, but barely visible except when the light caught them.

"About the carnival," he prompted.

"You were right. The maze was unlike any I've been in before. I got lost, actually. How did you manage the tricks?"

"Tricks?"

She watched his face for deceit, but could detect none.

"I thought that there was someone else there. The mirrors…they seemed like pictures at times. That might sound foolish, I suppose."

"Reality is not so fixed that _tricks_ is an adequate summation."

"Meaning?"

"People see what they want in reflections. A woman with makeup thick as hide thinks she looks not just natural, but young. A boy thinks his whiskers are finally coming in. A midget fancies himself a prince. Tricks only work so well. Imagination takes over from there. You could say that I'm in the business of helping that long. Why else do carnivals draw crowds but a suspension of a quiet, dusty life?"

"I'm not sure what I saw was what I wanted, but it's an interesting idea."

"Ideas can be more than interesting." He drew out the comment, watching people on the street. "I apologize if Mr. Yardly's condition disturbed you. I hope it doesn't deter you from enjoying the carnival. There is a show tonight. You should come."

"Perhaps," she allowed.

"Only perhaps, Claudia? The carnival only stays a week."

"I'll greatly consider it then."

He eyed her a long moment.

"An entertainer can only lay out his best plans and hope that it captures the audience. If I may," he offered, stepping closer. She looked up at him, catching a soft whiff of smoke. He was a smoker then, like father. "I'd like to commission your suit design. The one your mother liked. You will be working the shop today?" She nodded. "Good. I will come this afternoon."

He began walking down the stairs.

"Good," she echoed beneath her breath, thinking of the man inside and Dark's cynical comments. "Gives me time to pick some flowers."

He strolled down the street, neither approaching anyone nor being approached. He certainly caught a fair bit of attention though. Not a single greeting, Claudia mused, although a few men tilted their heads in acknowledgement. If the carnival's main attraction was its novelty for people like her, did that make town life a novelty to him? He certainly didn't seem the least bit interested in it.

* * *

It was well after lunch when Dark's shadow fell across her doorstep. He was dressed formally as always, but had left his cane and hat behind. It didn't detract from his sense of command as he casually ran fingers over the fabric she'd laid out on the worktable.

"A fine choice," he concluded.

"And good afternoon to you," she called from the back of the shop, where she'd been dressing a mannequin. His fingers moved to the crimson fabric beside black, delicate diamond patterns shining across the surface.

"I'm surprised you have such variety on hand. There can't be much occasion for it. I haven't seen an ounce of color in your town gentlemen but for their ties."

"There's always Halloween," Claudia smiled. "They just don't realize how fetching some of these fabrics can be on a daily basis. I think you'll find they admire your attire more than they'd necessarily admit."

"Halloween? My how your town pushes boundaries."

He had removed his jacket, and laid it aside. Such a crisp white shirt. Someone at the carnival knew how to keep the whites in perfect condition.

"Sarcasm seems to be second nature to you, Mr. Dark," she noted. "Here. Let's hang this. I'll not have a fine jacket laying around in my shop."

She took it from the table and carefully arranged it on a hanger. It was good quality material. She wouldn't expect less from him.

"Does my manner offend you?" he queried.

"…No. Stand here please."

She grabbed her tape and stepped closer, feeling that buzz of energy again as she laid it against his shoulder and unrolled it down his arm. It was a pleasant sensation. She glanced up at his face, and found him watching her.

"I admit that what you say isn't always kind, but you've no need to worry about my sensibilities," she spoke, if only to fill the silence. It was easier to ignore the warmth of his body when she was talking. "I suppose that I ought to be offended. If my father said half the things you did, I'd die of shock. And I only say that because I'm sure you don't give-"

"A damn?" he overrode, jarring her movements.

That was quite blatant, but rather than take offense, Claudia felt a brief thrill. She quickly resumed measuring the span of his shoulders.

"You've proven your point," she noted.

"Tell me," he spoke, words low and steady, as if sharing a secret. "Is your shock the same your dear father would feel if he knew you take the lord's name in vain on a regular basis? I wonder if that's the worst to pass your lips. Or whether he knows how free you've been with your words around traveling vermin."

If he was baiting her, she didn't fall for it. How could he even know that his guess was true? She leveled a brief look at him before moving the wrap the tape around his waist. It brought her closer to his scent, a touch of tobacco against cotton. Now wasn't the time to flirt. It was too much combined with their position. Lord help her, she wasn't a deviant of some kind. He was just too handsome. It didn't help that his legs were next.

They lapsed into silence as she finished taking measurements, her paper pad filled with numbers. Setting the tape aside, she pulled out her original sketch.

"I can easily have this done before you leave," she said. "If I start today, I'll be able to finish quickly so we can check the fit with plenty of time for adjustments. It will be perfect before you leave." Back to the road and whatever adventures awaited the traveling vermin.

He was unbuttoning his cuffs in her periphery, drawing her attention. Eyes on the sketch, he seemed unconscious of her staring at his wrists. Red, greens, and yellows painted his skin in elegant lines, forming faces and figures amongst flourishes. She had never seen such detailed tattoos before. The tattoo that Jim had shown her from the navy was hardly comparable. These were so seamless, one bleeding into the next, and they kept going, stretching up his arm as fabric was rolled to reveal his forearms.

She'd read stories about pirates and whalers. Perhaps Queequeg, with his tattooed exterior, would have resembled Dark's arms. The man was a walking storybook—a gentleman of experiences beyond her. Just how many of the stories she'd read were real sights to him? If she returned to the mirror maze, more prepared this time, she wondered if their tricks could conjure a whale for her so that she might feel the spray of its splash on her face.

"You are shocked," Dark noted.

"Hmm?" Blushing, she exhaled. "My apologies. I didn't mean to stare like that."

"They call me the illustrated man. Do you see this one?" He turned his right arm, exposing the inside flesh, where a woman's face was half-hidden by a mask with a mane of black feathers. "They make this style of mask in Venice, Italy. You can stroll along the Grand Canal and see the craftsman working, and smell fresh pastries from the baker's. It is the most exquisite place you can imagine when they celebrate carnival."

"You've been to Italy?"

"I've been many places."

His words washed over her as she noted the tortured expression of the tattooed woman. A tear escaped one exposed eye, lips parted in a gasp. And above that, Claudia realized, an elderly man stared skyward in a silent prayer. A violin. A dying rose's petals falling onto a screaming child.

"Are they all like this?" she asked, surprised to find her voice so hushed.

"No two are alike," he replied, his dark eyes catching light from the shop window. "But similar." He pulled his sleeve back further to reveal even more images, and for a moment, she swore they twisted and moved, shifting into multiple faces that swallowed and faded into one another. Dark allowed her to silently study them a moment longer before sharply tugging his sleeves back down.

"Why would you tattoo your arms with such sad emotions?" she asked.

"Happier ones disagree with me."

"I find that hard to believe. Everyone wants to be happy."

With a flick of his wrist, he'd taken her pencil and jotted a number down on her pad, right beside his measurements. He added the dollar sign last. It was generous to say the least.

"You can find me at the carnival when you're ready for the fitting."

"Of course."

She was already fetching her markup pencils, excited to be working on something out of the ordinary from her usual orders.

Claudia did not go to the carnival that night. She remained in her room, dreaming of far-flung lands and adventures that dissolved into nightmares of growing old in the same room where she now slept. And when the nightmares grew too strong, she woke to find the music of the carnival drifting across the air.


	5. Day 3

**DAY 3**

The next day, Claudia worked. The carnival was only present for a limited time, and she was determined that Dark should wear her creation before the end. Her spirit only dimmed when she visited the hospital to find the injured man gone. Speaking to him would…well, she wasn't sure, but she dearly wished to hear him say that he was fine in his own words.

The daisies she'd left by his bed were surprisingly already wilted and dead.


	6. Day 4

**DAY 4**

The carnival was less intimidating in early daylight. It was perhaps too early to bother the nighttime folks at all, but Claudia had found her feet reluctant to venture into the crowd at night. It was both sorely temping and a bit unsettling. She couldn't shake the mirror's dreams or the thudding of her heart as she'd felt her world teeter on the brink of everything she'd wanted. There was nothing to harm her amongst the quiet tents of morning though, the ground littered with confetti and trash. A lone clown wandered about collecting it, and ignored her completely.

Perhaps it was indeed much too early despite the town being active.

She continued anyway, a long skirt brushing against the taller grass that had somehow escaped trampling. Dark would no doubt dwell in the rear tents like the others, and one in particular stood out to her with its dull, unstriped sides. The plain, dusty gray opened away from her and the carnival itself, facing countryside instead. She caught the smell of cigarette before spotting any human activity.

He sat in a chair outside the open door flap of his quarters, a cigarette carefully held between two fingers and one leg crossed. He wore black trousers and a white shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

A book was balanced in his other hand, his brown hair uncombed.

Claudia inhaled at the sight. She'd seen shirtless men before, which was much more undressed than Dark currently was, but they'd been working in the fields or swimming in the river. This was different—more private—a scene a woman might find in the bedroom, her husband or lover relaxing away from prying eyes.

She followed a thin trail of hair toward his navel as she walked closer. She'd never dreamed much of having a man at her side, even if the thought was nice. There had been crushes and longing sighs, of course, but not like this sudden pull she felt.

Approaching from his periphery as she was, Dark hadn't immediately spotted her, but now his head lifted from the page. His momentary silence made her think that she'd caught him off guard.

"Miss Green." The book snapped shut. "You have finished my suit."

His words were terse, face neutral. There was no joy in the statement.

"Yes. If I gave you the impression that it'd be done even faster, I apologize. I admit that I was being a bit of a perfectionist."

His air of annoyance didn't abate as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Smoke curled over his lips, drifting across his fixed gaze. Claudia suddenly wondered if it wasn't the time of day and her interrupting like this that irked him.

"Let's try it then," he spoke, suddenly standing.

He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and snubbed it with his shoe. A small collection of them sat beside the chair leg. Taking the suit, he disappeared inside the tent without closing the flap. Claudia found herself unwilling to move as he tried the jacket, but averting her gaze when his trousers dropped. With her back turned away from the entrance, she watched wind play on the grass, catching her skirt.

"Well?" she asked.

"...It's what I expected."

It will do, huh? She turned, pride stinging a bit as he emerged from the tent, testing the fit. He was certainly in a foul mood, even if it lurked behind his calm exterior.

"You must have high expectations," she said. "Your name's practically written on that fit." He looked fetching—formal but with a flair suited to his line of work. She unconsciously approached and began examining the fit, adjusting his collar and walking a circle around him. Thank god he'd buttoned his shirt before coming out.

"It's a perfect fit," he admitted.

"I'll be the judge of that. I won't take your money unless I'm absolutely happy with it." She finally halted in front of him again, taking stock of the overall effect once more. "I don't think there are any improvements to be made. What do you think?"

"It feels as good as sin," he half-smiled.

"I guess that makes you the devil walked straight out of the bible," she returned, happy that the worst of his terseness had evaporated. "It looks good on you. I'm happy with it if you are."

"Quite. Your payment will be forthcoming tonight. I trust that won't be a problem?"

"Actually, I've promised my parents an evening and choir."

"Tomorrow then, and in the meantime, I can provide something more. You were admiring the carousel, I believe."

Her heart jumped. He'd said that the machine was broken, and so she'd been denied the closer look she'd been craving since that first day. The fact that he wanted to escort her there made it all the better.

"I suppose that I can tolerate it for the price of being seen with such well-done handiwork," she teased, stepping ahead of him. "Be sure to tell people where you got your suit."

"You are fishing for compliments," he deadpanned.

"And you are just charming enough to not get slapped for your disagreeableness."

She gently laughed, which seemed to stop him short a moment. Then he was beside her, moving at his steady pace, footsteps deliberate. The carousel tent was the largest and loomed ahead of them.

"Where did you acquire such fine taste in suits?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"A showman is allowed his indulgences. We live on pretense." He held the tent open for her, and then they were inside. "Lights," he spoke, and on command, bulbs along the tent and ride sparked to life, bathing the inside in a warm glow. Claudia gravitated toward the painted horse closest to her.

"May I?" she asked.

"Be my guest."

She climbed onto the platform, running a hand over the finely painted patterns on the saddle. The craftsman had captured not just the right colors, but seemingly every muscle and tendon. The animals were so lifelike, glassy eyes watching her from wooden skulls.

"Your first suit," she stated, walking and running one hand over each animal. Dark kept pace with her on the ground. "What color was it?"

"Brown."

"I don't believe you."

"It was an ill-fitted hand-me-down from my father. I looked a clown in it."

"Alright. Your first good suit then. The one that was really yours."

"Ah," he exhaled, a faint smile on his lips. "Black. I paid for it with blood."

Her gaze shot to him, finger catching a splinter from a horse's mane. She stopped walking and gently pried at it.

"Figuratively, of course," Dark added with a touch of humor.

"Shoot," she cursed, not really listening. She squeezed the splinter out and then stuck the digit in her mouth. She nearly jumped to find Dark directly opposite her, one hand propped on the pole of the horse between them. For a moment, it seemed as though both his eyes and the horses glinted with an intensely black shine.

"Are you really going to choir tonight?" he questioned. "When you could be here instead, riding one of these magnificent animals and enjoying yourself."

"You said it was broken."

"It could be fixed."

Oh, how he baited her. She couldn't be angry with him though—didn't even entertain the thought.

"You are assuming that I don't enjoy choir," she replied.

"I doubt anyone except the most dull enjoy it. It's not like singing a ditty through the woods. It doesn't make you want to dance. Do they allow dancing here?" he asked, sounding quite serious. "I haven't been in a long time, but last I checked, dancing in church was a first class ticket to eternal torment."

"There's no dancing in church," Claudia admitted. "But not all music's for dancing."

She swung up onto a horse, and remained perched there, admiring the speckled paint around the ears. Dark circled closer, touching a hand to the horse's snout. He studied the movement of his fingers on the wood.

"You didn't come to the show last night. Now you'll miss tonight's as well."

"You really don't have any love for church or Christian fellowship, do you?" Claudia questioned. She'd known of course. His comments were clear enough, but it hadn't really hit her until now that the man actually did shun such a common aspect of life. How did one not go to church with such impunity? Not everyone in town went every Sunday, true, but such people mostly avoided the subject or lived lives completely contrary to normal society anyway. Drunk Pete fit the bill. But someone as upstanding in appearance as Dark? It was unheard of.

The idea made her uncomfortable as he swung onto the horse beside hers.

"I don't waste my time," he dismissed.

"You really are incorrigible," she exhaled with a grin.

"You could skip choir," he insisted, and there was deadly lure in his words. They ghosted over her, his lips curled in self-satisfaction as if sensing her conflict. Her hands resting on the horse's mane, they seemed to fall through the wood, entangling themselves in actual hair. The sensation so startled her that she stared at the wooden surface, testing her fingers against the returned hardness.

"I could skip choir, I suppose," she admitted. "But then I would need to repent in church tomorrow. And you think choir is tedious."

"Miss Green, are you disparaging the fine institution that brings order and virtue to the world?" His words bit hard—harder than she expected when coupled with such a dark expression. She could have sworn he saw right through her then, straight into her soul where she dreamed of frolicking along the Rhine on Walpurgisnacht and drinking from a coconut under a palm tree, and how her mind sometimes wandered to such images during the church service.

He didn't make her feel ashamed for it though. She found her breath catching in her throat before it settled. She met his gaze sternly, and he practically scoffed at her as he jumped down from the horse.

"Remember what you're missing when you're sitting in those pews."

He sounded almost dismissive of her, his words clipped yet again.

"I suppose that I wouldn't need to repent if I didn't go to church either," she thought aloud. That made him stop. Just as he was about to hop off the platform, he pivoted, swift and sharp. Those green eyes pinned her to her perch.

"How about a compromise?" she suggested. "For the sake of properly appreciating the carnival, which is only here a week, after all. I will go to choir tonight, but I could be persuaded to skip church tomorrow, if there was something better."

"Eating breakfast already wins your argument," Dark stated.

The way she had his attention brought a swell of energy to her. She climbed down from the horse and joined him at the platform's edge. Did she really want to do this? In the end, he was only here a week. Then life would be as it always had been, which was comforting and unpleasant by turns.

"Very well," she pronounced. "I accept. Breakfast at 9:00 am sharp."

Dark looked genuinely caught off guard. His eyes flicked to hers too quickly, assessing in a manner that made her feel naked once more, before he returned to a watchful expression.

"I'm curious to know what one eats at a carnival for breakfast anyway," she continued. "Not popcorn and caramel apples, I hope."

"A nauseating thought." He seized her wrist then, and she might have pulled away if it weren't all so unexpected. His grip wasn't harsh, but firm, turning her to face him directly. "You presume too much sometimes, Miss Green, but _I_ accept. Tomorrow. 9:00 am sharp. I caution you to respect my time."

His fingers slid from her wrist, grazing skin along the way. She wasn't sure how to respond, but settled for taking a single step backward. He hadn't touched her before, and now that he had, she wasn't convinced that she wanted to feel it again. It was the caress and not the grip, however, that stayed with her as he departed.

"Until tomorrow morning," he spoke, holding the tent open for her once more. "I will make it worth your while."

"Until morning then," Claudia agreed.

She departed then, spirit souring straight into a tangled net as she considered just how this decision might impact her. Going into the tent alone with him instead of manning the shop would generate enough comment, not that anyone would know. She had come on business anyway, and people had better find out that the suit was hers. It would be good for the shop—perhaps give people some idea for new commissions. The rest was a bit more complicated, but surely a week's indulgence would do its rounds and pass.

No one needed to know about breakfast tomorrow. She would claim that she'd been sick. She could even pave the way tonight by complaining about feeling too warm to her parents. It was innocent enough.

Her thoughts occupied her as she walked through the field, taking a shortcut toward the shop. It was the glint of metal that caught her eye and made her pause a moment. Someone had dropped a little tin soldier on the ground, the figure mounted to a pin for a breast jacket. She vaguely recognized it—had certainly seen it somewhere—but couldn't remember the details. Perhaps her parents or someone in the choir would know.

Pocketing the pin, she joined the town for business as usual.

* * *

Dark sat outside his tent, enjoying the shade it offered while staring at nothing in particular. His fingers twirled his cane in thought, brow set low over his eyes.

Claudia Green was a bit more than expected—the kind of more that occasionally demanded closer inspection. For such a seemingly benign specimen of humanity, her inner workings writhed with intensity and, he grudgingly admitted, complexity. Her desires were harder to pick apart and isolate. Vice, usually so simple, was a tantalizing treat when layered. People were picked apart so easily. _She_ was picked apart with little more effort, but effort it was taking.

She would crumble quickly if he could just get her to visit the goddamned carnival for any length of time. She seemed quite inclined to push boundaries.

His grip on the cane tightened.

Cooger had been so easy. The man had the right attitude and even aptitude for the work. His vices weren't complex or even particularly interesting, but he hadn't caved like some whelp lapping at the last dregs of milk either. No, the man had gleefully jumped into the barrel, the brute that he was. Dark had found him choking the life out of a whore in retaliation, and not an ounce of regret or shame to show for it. No pressure was needed to make the man work—no contorting the lost soul. The bastard could keep his blackened heart for all Dark cared. He had his uses, and there was no need to rip his soul free to make the remaining husk a puppet.

The problem, Dark knew, was that Cooger was so glaringly lacking. If he wanted a slut strangled or a body dragged, sure, but the man would never be useful like the dust witch. Cooger made a rather shitty business partner, and the last person who'd seemed so much more promising, dear Jim Nightshade, had proven a terrible disappointment. That two boys should escape when so many others hadn't was revolting.

There'd been that doctor who was secretly offing a patient or two, of course, but Dark didn't need a homicidal addict on hand either. They never worked out properly or followed directives, and their souls didn't taste sweet either. The carnival wasn't for their kind. They barely counted as appetizers.

The wind passed over Dark's lips, carrying a thousand words. His tattoos spiraled in response, clawing for more.

Claudia didn't have the angry rebellion of Jim, nor the brutality of Cooger. She was a different kind of mixture, maybe completely unsuitable. He mulled the thought over, remembering the taste of her emotions as she struggled free from the mirror's hold.

"She is strong and ripe," a voice carried.

"And reliving her dreams and their destruction every night, I assume?"

The dust witch glided closer in a mockery of a wedding gown, all whites and lace. She'd been collecting jewels from the wedding rings of victims and sewing them into her veils and shawls, making her glitter in the sunlight.

"Whatever you have to say must be important to bring you out at this hour," Dark noted.

The woman cast a disdainful eye to the heavens.

"Come with me," she coaxed.

Dark complied, drifting behind her as she led him to her own tent, the one from which she plied her trade as fortuneteller, sleeping maiden, or whatever ploy suited her needs. She arranged herself at a small table engraved with runes, a crystal vase and small bag set before her. He watched quietly as she took her time smoothing her gown.

"I will help bend this one's soul to your will," she whispered.

"That is your role. I see no favor here."

Her lashes fluttered, dark gaze finding his as if indulging his insolence.

"I speak not of merely turning her to fodder for the shiftless hunger. She could bleed so much more slowly, unless you have something else in mind."

"What I have in mind is not your concern right now. She will return. Then the decision will be made."

There was silence in response. The witch showed no reaction, merely rising, and with a swipe of her hand, lifting a long hair from the shoulder of Dark's jacket. She ignored him as she lowered it into the vase and then swirled the contents.

"This will help," the witch hushed. "There will be no suppressing her deepest desires."

"We have simpler methods for this. What makes yours better?"

"You should not underestimate my powers."

"One mistake I am always careful not to make."

She smiled almost fondly at him, but he did not return it. She extended her hand, palm up, and he accepted the invitation. She took his hand and pulled a silver pin from her hair. The sharp end pierced his finger, causing blood to pool at the surface. She rubbed the pin's length in it, and then stirred it through her mixture. This Dark had not seen before, and as if sensing his question, she spoke.

"My methods depend on the patient. I will tell you when it is ready."

She closed her eyes, hands cradled on her lap. Lines around her mouth meant she was about due for a turn or two on the carousel. Dark left her without a word.


	7. Day 5

**DAY 5**

Claudia awoke with an unprecedented lightness that morning. The nightmares had returned as she recalled, but had been unable to overpower the excitement that bubbled in her chest. She'd never stolen away from tradition quite like this, or at least, not so blatantly. There had been sneaking behind the pews and into the yard outside as a child, or convincing the Sunday school teacher to let them enjoy the swing set while she read them passages. It was nothing quite like this.

She chose a sky blue dress that clung to her waist, and white sandals. It was perfect for such a bright and clear day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as she locked the shop and took shortcuts behind her neighbors' houses and the bank. Church had started at 8:30, making it less likely that she'd be spotted.

With a smile, she placed a wide-brimmed hat on head, her pace slowing as she reached the wooded path. This felt more like her routine—a walk after the service, sometimes with friends or her cousins. The carnival was as dead as usual in the morning, and perhaps the tents sagged a bit in disagreement with the tolling church bells.

She was almost late!

She broke into a jog at the field, rounding Dark's quarters with a laugh as wind caught her hat. She barely kept it on her head, still grinning as he emerged.

"Good morning," she beamed. "Don't tell me you're going to breakfast in a full suit."

He had been carrying his jacket, but paused.

"You are entirely too awake this early in the morning," he responded. The jacket was draped over his chair at a small table set for two. She was relieved to find the table outside rather than within the tent.

"I gather you are not a morning person then," she said.

"I prefer my mornings quiet."

He pulled out her chair for her, letting her sit first. He wore a purple vest over his shirt today, the sleeves sensibly rolled up. A metal pot of coffee and two cups were on the table.

"Do you take cream?" she asked, taking the initiative to pour for both of them.

"No."

"I suspected as much."

He eyed her as he took a long sip.

"It seems that repenting isn't your style, Claudia. Whatever will the townspeople say about you dining alone with the proprietor of a carnival?"

"Oh, they won't know," she smiled. "I was very careful. Not that I'm trying to hide it," she quickly added. That had sounded quite insulting, hadn't it? "But if no one asks, there's no reason to shout it. I'm afraid my parents would send the pastor to my doorstep for some counseling."

"Best to avoid that then," he dryly spoke. "Pastors go terribly with coffee."

"Pastor Dan is a very nice man. Although I'm not sure he drinks coffee. He certainly doesn't drink alcohol of any kind. I wonder if pastors have anything against the energizing properties of coffee."

Dark's lips pulled into a smile, however subtle. She grinned at that, focusing her gaze on the coffee. She dearly loved the stuff, but she also didn't want to need the loo either. Taking a single sip, she found it darker and richer than she was accustomed to.

"This is strong," she noted.

"Arabic," he explained. "I suppose you don't find it here."

No, that was true, the blasted man. Him and his wild tattoos and exotic goods.

"I must thank you, Mr. Dark, for having me to breakfast. I realize that my suggesting it was perhaps a bit too forward, but you are only here for a week. I wouldn't want to miss the opportunity."

"Do you enjoy my company, Claudia? You grow more wicked by the moment."

"Wicked?" she chortled at the ridiculousness of the accusation. "I am hardly wicked, sir. I might not feel bad about skipping church, but I can't even squish the caterpillars in my mother's garden. I…well, I relocate them."

A man in an apron appeared around the corner, carrying a tray. On it sat sausage, eggs, and what smelled like peach cobbler. Claudia was more distracted by the cook than the food though, his stare oddly vacant and disconcerting when it landed directly on her. He stared a moment too long for her comfort.

"That is all, Billy," Dark dismissed. The man stalked off while Dark served both her and himself. "Typical morning servings," he spoke. "Were we elsewhere, there'd be fresh pineapple and sweetened rice."

"It smells delicious."

She watched him cut his sausage, his manners as impeccable as his dress.

"Mr. Dark? If I may, it cannot be unusual for people to enjoy your company during your travels. You must meet all kinds of people."

"…We do not generally draw invitations to dine." He gave her a sly half-smile, goading her. Oh, he did think it a bit forward after all, didn't he? She fought back a smile as she poured more coffee for them both.

"This coffee pot," he motioned. "It might not be impressive, but I bought it in New Orleans. Have you heard of it? They were celebrating Mardi Gras. There were brass bands in the streets, and every house was hung with lights and merriment. Balconies overlook many of the streets, and every one held people in masks and costumes. This," he emphasized, tapping the pot with his fork, "was being sold by a toothless woman with green and purple feathers in her hair. She claimed to have found it in a sunken chest."

"Was she telling the truth, you think?"

"Hardly. She stole it from the restaurant across the street."

"That's terrible," Claudia commented with a smile.

"We'll be in New Orleans this winter," Dark continued. "We winter in the warmer regions. We'll even make Christmas in the city. It's…" He offered what passed as an apologetic smile. "It's difficult to describe if you've never seen it."

"It sounds amazing," she mused.

They ate in quiet a moment, her mind elsewhere. She dearly loved Christmas, especially when it snowed. The forests and fields were so beautiful, and her parents always had a tree and family gathering. She didn't know if she'd like to be away from home for the holidays, but Dark's Christmas certainly sounded exciting.

"Do you never visit family for the holidays?" she asked. "Surely the workers must take time to visit their families."

"My parents are deceased, Miss Green."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Your sympathy is misplaced," he dismissed. "And your cobbler is getting cold. Do you mind?" he asked, holding up a cigarette.

"Not at all."

She ate the peaches as he lit up, studying the tattoos on his arms once more. There were several she didn't recall seeing before, but she supposed there hadn't been time for a proper look at all of them. Strange though, that she'd sworn the half-masked woman had been on his right forearm. Now she found a clock with crooked arms in its place, a snake winding between its numerals.

"Would you like a closer look?" Dark exhaled with his smoke.

"Hmm?" She caught his fixed gaze, and blushed. "I don't want to impose."

"I think you do." He laid his arm on the table, fingertips resting beside her empty plate. She couldn't help her wandering gaze, and didn't really want to. The tattoos were all so intricate, the colors so vibrant. Did skin feel different when tattooed? She glanced at Dark, but his eyes were half closed as he indulged in a particularly long drag.

Claudia barely noticed the cook returning to clear the table. She instead touched a finger to Dark's exposed wrist, feeling the pulse beneath it as she briefly followed the curve of a dancing figure. The skin felt no different despite the tattoos.

Suddenly, heat enveloped her arm, making her yelp in surprise. The cook had knocked over the pot, spilling hot coffee on her.

"Incompetent fool!" Dark hissed, rising. The cook shrunk back without a word, gaze lowered to the tabletop as he hurriedly gathered the tray.

"I'm okay," Claudia insisted. "Really. I just wasn't expecting it."

She wiped her arm with a napkin, and moved to place it atop the cook's stack. She would have offered him a reassuring smile, but it died on her lips. There was hate in the man's formerly dull gaze, and it blazed directly at her. She'd never seen such a horrible expression leveled at her. Anger, and disgust, and…something darker that she couldn't identify.

"Leave!" Dark ordered.

The man departed without looking at Dark, not once. Claudia inhaled, standing automatically when Dark offered to pull her chair out.

"It is unfortunate that you witnessed such behavior. Some of the workers lacked a polite upbringing."

Without asking, he lifted her arm, running fingers over the reddened spot where coffee had struck. His breath smelled like smoke, the material of his sleeves brushing her skin. She'd never liked smoke before, but didn't find it as offensive on him.

"It won't leave a mark," he concluded, releasing her.

"It wasn't very hot," she assured. "Well. That was an unexpected ending to breakfast. I should get home and put some cream on this." She fixed her hat, and looked up at him. "There was one favor I wanted to ask, if it's not too inconvenient."

"The carousel remains broken."

"Not that. I was wondering how your injured worker is faring—the one from the hospital. I went to check on him the other day, but he was gone."

Dark made a show of rolling down his sleeves. What little she caught of his expression suggested that she'd somehow annoyed him again, but it was probably just the entire situation. She hoped the worker didn't catch too much anger for the incident, although why the person should treat her so badly…she just didn't understand it.

"He is still recovering," Dark stated. "We can visit him, if you'd like."

It was a short walk to the man's tent, and there were others inside that quickly left. Only one cot remained occupied, a man with a bandaged head sitting on its edge.

"This is Miss Claudia Green," Dark announced. "She is here to check on your recovery."

Claudia suddenly felt desperate to speak with the man. It felt overwhelmingly important as she neared him, reaching down to claim and shake his hand. His head moved in her direction, a faint, almost silly smile touching his lips.

"That is kind of you, Miss Green. I didn't expect visitors."

"Your recovery is going well then? As well as it can?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Yardly has learned his lesson about instant gratification," Dark commented from behind her.

Yardly's head lifted an inch higher, as if focusing on the carnival master. There was an awkward pause—too long in Claudia's opinion.

"Yes. Mr. Dark has been kind enough to keep me on as a worker." The man's eyeless gaze shifted back to her. "Have we met before?"

"I…" Did he remember? Her pulse jumped. She didn't wish Dark to know about her trying to save and then leaving the man in the forest. God knows what might have happened to him despite her best intentions. There was no fear in his current demeanor. "I don't believe so," she finished.

But there was something familiar about his nose and the way his mouth sloped downward more than most. She hadn't gotten a close look at him that night, nor at the hospital. The faint familiarity nagged her as she stepped back.

"I'm glad the carnival will keep you employed, sir. Best wishes."

"We should be on our way," Dark stated, guiding her out.

"Yes," she agreed. "I really must get some lotion on this burn to be safe. I don't want it to itch something terrible tomorrow. Thank you again, Mr. Dark. I had a lovely time."

"My pleasure," he intoned. "You owe me a proper visit to the carnival now."

He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, bringing a smile to her lips. She was perhaps overly pleased with the gesture, still smiling as she went home. It would explain why she forgot about collecting payment for the suit. She'd have to go back later.


	8. Night 5

**NIGHT 5**

Claudia still glowed from the morning, never mind the light burn on her arm. It could have been much worse, and even the cook's odd behavior couldn't ruin her mood. Dark had invited her back to the carnival again. Perhaps it was more than a businessman plying his trade. Perhaps he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his. The thought made her smile as she hummed quietly to herself in the shop.

She was busying herself with a few dresses for the fall season. It was nearly time to change the display window with the changing weather.

Pulling out several rolls of fabric to decide on colors, she knocked a trinket off the table. It was the soldier pin, the one that she'd meant to take to church and ask if anyone knew the owner. It too struck her as familiar, like Mr. Yardly's face. She had seen both somewhere before.

She turned the pin over in her hand, tracing the soldier's stance. Where…?

 _Oh my god._

She dropped the pin onto the table, eyes wide. She'd seen the pin on the lapel of a man's jacket several times. The banker who helped Mr. Morrison. She could imagine him sitting behind the counter, taking her deposit for father after the leg-breaking incident, the soldier standing at attention on his attire. Worse still, he'd always appeared to be frowning, the corners of his mouth drooping more than usual, even when he laughed.

The eyeless man, she realized in horror. He hadn't been a carnival worker at all.

For a long moment, Claudia didn't move. She just stood there, staring at the pin and questioning her reasoning. The man had seemed quite content to be part of the carnival. There'd been no sign of dismay, not after that night in the tent. He'd wanted to get away then, or so she'd thought. Could he really be the banker?

The bank was closed on Sundays. There was no checking, but what of the other things she'd seen? Yes, her reaction at the maze had been bizarre, and the confusion the following morning had also been troubling, but it didn't seem serious. Strange things happened sometimes. People didn't just walk into a maze and suddenly grow an extra leg—suddenly lose their crutches.

She closed the shop and went straight to a small cottage at the far edge of town. Knocking at the door, no one answered.

"Mr. Blackwell?" she called.

A neighbor emerged from the adjacent house, wiping hands on a dishtowel.

"James isn't in right now," the woman informed her.

"Do you know when he's coming back? I'm a former student."

"I can't rightly say. He left a note saying he was going to visit a brother in Chicago. He won't be back for a week at least, I'd say. I'll be watching his chickens for him."

Claudia's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch.

"When exactly did he leave?"

"The day the carnival arrived. He must have taken the morning train."

That didn't seem right. Claudia thanked the woman and hurried to the train station. Trains didn't arrive in town as frequently as that, and checking the schedule, there'd been no morning train that day.

 _It's not possible_ , she told herself. It couldn't be. It defied reality.

Sitting on a bench by the schoolyard, she watched the carnival slowly coming to life. It evoked no joy this time. Something was off. Maybe it wasn't fantastical, but something was going on, and her nerves wouldn't rid themselves of the warning. And what of Dark? He'd seemed so natural in proclaiming the eyeless man his own. He certainly hadn't hurt her, and there'd been ample opportunity.

She recalled his lips on her hand. She'd more than enjoyed it.

"Hey, Claudia!" a boy called, bouncing up to her with a grin.

"And what are you doing out alone, mister?"

"Mom's talking to Mrs. Kreach. She said I can go to the carnival if I'm home before the street lights come on."

"How about sparing your aunt a moment? Come on."

The boy hopped onto the bench beside her, looking longingly at the carnival lights. The ferris wheel had just started to turn. She felt utterly paranoid for not wanting him to go. All of her friends and most of the family had gone at this point. Not one of them had failed to return or spoken of nightmares like she had. Of course, she'd been rather preoccupied with Dark the last few days. It only occurred to her now that she hadn't spoken to many people lately, not Mark, Susan, or even Charles.

"Are you meeting friends?" she asked.

"Nah. Tommy's mom is still angry about the frogs, and Jessica says I'm no good. She's not speaking to me. I won't go with Bill!" he declared. "He thinks he's better than me."

"Older brothers think that sometimes," Claudia distractedly spoke. "Have you noticed anything strange? About the carnival?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Does anything strange stand out?"

"They electrocuted a guy in a chair last night. They call him the electric man. And he was alive afterwards! That's strange."

"Anything else?"

"I don't know. I guess…I guess Mr. Dark has strange tattoos. They move. He's the one in the suit. He's…" the boy's voice softened. "He's kind of scary."

"Scary?" Claudia couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, but he's alright. He gave me a ticket for the carousel tonight. He said I can ride as much as I like, and Bill can't!"

"The carousel?"

Claudia frowned, examining the ticket that her nephew produced. It was indeed for the carousel, but that didn't make sense.

"Ernest," she puzzled. "The carousel is broken. It's been broken all week."

"No, it's not. Old man Scruff went with a ticket yesterday. I haven't seen him since, but I heard the music from the tent. That big redhead said we weren't allowed to go to see without tickets though."

"Where's Peter now? You shouldn't call him Scruff, you know."

"I know. I know," he rolled his eyes. "I haven't seen him since."

There was no reason to panic. She didn't really know what was going on. It was possible that she was the one imagining things given all of the strange sensations lately. At times, the carnival had felt unreal, like it lived and breathed, and surely that was her imagination. She couldn't think of Dark letting her walk around the carousel with any ill intent.

"I'll see you later, auntie!"

"Ernest, wait!" She jumped from her seat, wanting nothing more than to snatch him back to her. "I'm coming with you."

"You're not going to spoil it, are you?"

"No. None of that. I'm the fun one, remember?"

With a grin, he seized her hand and hauled her ever closer to the tents. The carnival workers looked more sinister than playful now, and several stared at her, granting her an attention they hadn't before. Two woman with clothing that exposed their stomachs and arms eyed her from the entrance of a tent where they beckoned to passing guests, the two leaning close to whisper to one another.

Between two tents, she caught a glimpse of a woman in white silk with a long veil. The figure was only passing into another tent, this one a rich purple, but a shiver ran down her spine.

"Claudia!" Ernest whined. "Come on."

They were inside the carousel tent almost immediately, the door flap closing behind them, leaving them seemingly alone with the carved horses. The animals were still beautiful. She didn't see the harm in letting Ernest ride and then guiding him home, yet the sound of hooves on earth and angry snorts echoed in the shadows. The horses watched her as she watched them.

"I don't think anyone's here, Ernest."

"Is that you boy?" a man called.

A man built like a barrel appeared, his hair and moustache red, beady eyes squinting at her. Ernest released her hand and all but ran onto the platform, choosing a horse and sitting atop it.

"I have my ticket!" he proclaimed, waving it.

"Ernest," Claudia chided, facing the newcomer. She didn't recognize him. "I'm sorry about this. He's convinced the carousel is working. I tried to tell him that Mr. Dark told me just this morning it's broken like it has been. I'm sorry that he snuck in here. I'll keep him out of your hair, promise."

"It's not broken!" Ernest protested quite loudly. "Tell her, Mr. Cooger."

Cooger? She studied him anew. He looked nothing like Dark. There was no formality here. The man wiped his hands on a handkerchief and crossed his arms.

"We're fixing it," the man stated. "Do you have a ticket too?"

"So it's working right now then? I have no ticket, but can wait for Ernest."

"You can ride with me, Claudia!"

"That's okay," she denied. "I'm not feeling great. I'd prefer to watch."

Cooger glowered at her. She did not like the way he towered over her right now, his sheer bulk making her feel vulnerable. She could only keep her spine straight and give him a forced smile. God help her, she really wanted away from the man.

"I want the black one!" Ernest whooped, climbing down from his horse and running toward another. He vanished from view, and Cooger unfolded his arms. A single step closer made Claudia check the tent entrance.

"It's not fixed quite yet," the man finally spoke. "Boy!" Ernest appeared around the front of the carousel. "Come back later tonight. It might be fixed then."

"Shucks," the boy groused. "He said it was working."

"Come on," Claudia beckoned. "There are other rides."

She couldn't get away from Cooger quickly enough. Exiting the tent, she pulled Ernest aside and crouched to his level. She took the ticket from him, much to his protest.

"Ernest, stop that," she said. Her severity gave him pause, and he stared at her curiously. "You shouldn't ride the carousel. Cooger is not a good man, and he'll tell you nice things that aren't true. Have I ever lied to you?" He shook his head. "You're old enough to be trusted with secrets now, like Bill, and I'm telling you that no matter what happens tonight, you do not go back to the carousel without me, no matter what. Promise me. I'm really trusting you on this."

"…I promise," he breathed, puffing up his chest. "But why can't I ride?"

"He's trying to get you to come back alone. Didn't you see how unhappy he was to see me? Now why would he not want me to watch? What harm could I do? I don't know what that means, Ernest, but it's bad."

"He said it's still broken. That's why."

"It's not broken," she breathed, believing it this time. "It was a lie."

He looked utterly confused now, but she made him repeat his promise word by word. As he finished, she noticed Dark. He'd just emerged from the carousel tent, and stood overlooking the carnival. His face was a tempest, his suit the new one she'd made for him. He really did look like sin incarnate as his gaze swept across the grounds. Her pulse jumped, and not just because of his good looks this time.

"Let's have a snack," she told Ernest, pointing to Bill. He groaned, but she pressed money into his hands. "Here are some coins for candy. Share with Bill."

She trailed behind the boy as he split the money with his brother, overseeing their purchase of sweets. Ernest popped one into her mouth, the sugar melting over her tongue as she again caught sight of pitch black amongst the crowd. She was unable to look directly at Dark for the moment. She felt unprepared for it, even as that tenacious thrill remained at the thought of him coming closer. And he was advancing. The crowd practically parted for him.

"Alright, boys," she smiled. "Enjoy yourselves, and be home before dark. Remember your promise, Ernest," she added with a whisper.

"You can count on me."

She watched them go while rolling the last of a gumdrop over her tongue. Dark had seen her. She swallowed as he came near enough for a hushed conversation.

"Good evening, Mr. Dark. You look perfectly tailored as always."

"I'm pleased to see you enjoying the night," he spoke. "Those two boys that ran off just now. You know them?"

"Yes. Charming children, the two of them. They're my sister's."

"A sister? I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting her. I suppose she was at church earlier today and has no desire for our fanfare."

"It's not her style. They'll be home early tonight."

"A shame. When you see them, do let them know that they've won a prize. I hear that Mr. Cooger was a bit gruff with the youngest earlier. I hope he wasn't too disappointed about the carousel."

"I explained the situation to him. Please," she exhaled. "Don't trouble yourself over it."

 _His tattoos move_ , Ernest had said. Nonsense, she thought, meeting Dark's green eyes. Tattoos didn't move, but where had the half-masked woman on his arm gone? She smiled gently at the red patterns on his jacket's collar, some of her finest handiwork and oh-so-fitting.

"Do you not intend to partake in the rides and shows?" Dark asked. "The mirror maze would not catch your eye a second time? Or perhaps you're here on business." He held up his hand, swiping it over her face before she could react. "Your right pocket," he spoke.

Claudia felt a slight weight, and found money inside where she'd been certain only a few napkins from the concession stand had been.

"How…?"

"I'm a professional," Dark stated. "It ruins the show to give away the how." She ran a thumb over the bills before shoving them back inside her pocket.

"Thank you."

"Not going to count?" he taunted. "That's very trusting of you."

"I'm not so crass as to do it in front of you. I didn't come for the payment anyway. I forgot about it, to be honest. You didn't need to give me so much, not after the morning we've had."

"Don't sell yourself short. It's bad business to do favors for free. Soon the paupers will be knocking at your door for charity." He lowered his voice, leaning forward so only she could hear. If anyone noticed, she didn't care. There was nothing in her sight except Dark. "Tell me the truth. Have you become bored with this town yet? Does seeing the carnival not make you dream of possibilities? If you wait too long, Claudia, you'll blink and realize your entire life has been nailed to this spot. It will be your cage and coffin."

His seductive words struck her full force, wiping her expression away.

"Would you really have me be honest?" she questioned, fixing her gaze on the knot of his tie. "Yes. I'm not bored, but there is something to envy in your freedom. You aren't from here. You can trample on our ideas and way of life so easily and not bat an eye. I'm beginning to wonder if you belong anywhere, Mr. Dark."

Dark's eyes sharpened, the crowd seemingly skirting around them. No one drew nearer the side of the stand where they stood, nor the stand itself.

"Shall I tell you a truth now, Claudia?" he all but purred. "You are not as bold as you pretend to be. Only cowards avoid the unknown for promises of comforting familiarity." His lips split in a subtle smile. "But only you know where your dreams lay. They can't be forced upon you. If you would throw them all away for…" He waved a dismissive hand toward town. "… _this_ , then it is your coffin to make."

She breathed deeply. Was it his voice that echoed like ocean waves? He'd smelled of smoke last she checked, not a fragrant breeze.

"For tonight, at least," he offered. "Forget about what is for the sake of what could be. It's a fool's game to turn down such an offer."

He held out his hand to her, and it would have been easy to set her hand against the black leather waiting for her.

"Claudia!" a voice called.

She blinked, breaking free of Dark's gaze to find Charles bursting into their midst. The man grinned at her, a prize ribbon pinned to his shirt.

"First place for the throwing contest," he laughed. "Mark is eating crow right now."

"Hi, Charles," she absently greeted. It was difficult to focus just now. The interruption felt too intrusive. Whatever glimmer of intimate promises had just flowed from Dark were whisked away with the breeze like so much dust. The man had stepped back, both hands resting atop his cane as an icy gaze scrutinized Charles.

"Am I interrupting something?" he puzzled, glancing between Dark and Claudia.

"No," Claudia assured, following by Dark's much harsher, "Yes, actually."

Charles continued to warily look between them, brows knitting as he angled toward Claudia.

"I came over here to see if you're interested in sharing a funnel cake. My treat. Or I could walk you home, if you'd prefer. You don't look well."

"I'd like that actually—going home. I'm still recovering from that bug I had earlier today."

"Your mother mentioned it at church."

Claudia caught Dark's arched and mocking eyebrows. She didn't see the tight grip on his cane though, the one that had a trickle of blood running down its length. She did see the trickle of blood that appeared on Charles's forehead.

"Oh," she realized. "Charles, your head is bleeding. Mr. Dark, I'm terribly sorry, but I think this is probably the end of the night for me. I promise that I'll see you another time."

Charles frowned at that, touching a finger to the blood. Dark seemed to be fading into the shadows, his footsteps silent. With a tip of his hat, he excused himself as well.

* * *

Charles returned to the carnival after escorting Claudia home. He didn't like this situation at all. He'd seen how familiar Dark had behaved toward her, even touching her, and it wasn't the man's place. He'd thought it curious the first time, when the man in black had escorted Claudia around the grounds, but this was hardly the only occasion. He'd heard that Dark had gone to the shop for a suit. Then he'd heard rumors of them being seen at the hospital. Claudia was a beautiful and kind woman. Who knew how a traveling man with no background or ties to the area might treat or mislead her?

A roaming salesman had murdered his father. His mother had given the visitor a meal before it happened.

These people, he thought, eyeing the clown costumes and frills, even a man on stilts with a garish mask, didn't end up in carnivals by chance. The kinds of people that ran off with the circus surely had nothing better going for them in life or simply didn't know better.

He stopped short of tent, recognizing the blue dress and woman that slipped inside.

"Claudia?"

He peeked inside, calling her name again, but there was no answer. Daring to enter, he found her sitting at a table, her back to him and tarot cards spread wide before her.

"Claudia? What are you doing here?"

Dark stepped free of the darkness in front of him, staring at him with a look that would have made lesser men recoil.

"You," Charles scoffed. "Claudia, come on. You shouldn't be here with him."

The woman turned in her seat, but it wasn't Claudia. Eyes flashed with brilliant red, fingers uncurling to reveal long, painted nails. She held up a tarot card for him to see, a man entangled in tree roots, screaming.

* * *

Claudia snuck out in the darkness, stealing through shadows to the library. The back door was never locked. The town didn't fear book thieves or vagrants sleeping inside. It was a tomb as she prowled the aisles, her feet finding a section she'd never had much interest in before. She pulled the first book from the shelf, and began to read.


	9. Day 6

**DAY 6**

Morning light brought with it a new trouble. Claudia sat in her shop, the closed sign flipped, and a cup of tea in hand. The warmth soothed her fingers on a morning chillier than most. She felt autumn's touch for the first time that season as she stumbled over a problem to which she found no solution. Quite simply, she had no idea how to proceed, and half questioned everything she'd seen anyway.

The banker was gone. He'd submitted his retirement slip, and hadn't been seen since. There were other oddities as well, now that she looked, but nothing glaringly obvious. A new child was in town, seemingly out of the blue, and had appeared in Ernest's class. Her mother complained that the pastor's wife was being uncharacteristically listless due to an illness that had her hands failing to work. They could all be explained away, and no one else seemed to think it more than a bit odd, but she could only stare at the open book in front of her and wonder.

Certainly, she would not return to the carnival. Last night had been almost too much. Dark's invitation to…well, she wasn't entirely sure. He'd been vague but seductive with his promises. Her heart beat anew at the dream she'd had last night, the man having appeared on her doorstep to whisk her away on a train that flew across mountains and lakes.

She set her tea aside and reread the paragraph before her.

"Demons or human servants of darkness are often characterized as tricksters in literature. The trend dates back to the Bible and even earlier folk traditions. The trickster is often charming, sometimes not, using promises and deals to cheat people out of their souls or lives. For example, they might lure a heartbroken person to an illusion of their loved one, the person choosing to assuage their grief at the expense of their own soul, even when they're aware of the cost. In many fables, a character might try to outwit the trickster or make a deal on which they intend to renege, only to find that the price must still be paid."

She closed the book as someone knocked.

"Mother," she greeted, unlocking the door. "What are you doing here? I thought you were chaperoning the children to the bank for their lesson today?"

"It was postponed. Mr. Morrison had to close for the day to take care of some personal business. He'll need to hire a new assistant soon. Maybe Charles will get the job. He's good with numbers. Why is the shop closed?"

"I'm still not feeling well," Claudia lied, swiping the book out of sight.

"Don't let me keep you then, dear. I was simply bringing you this."

Claudia watched a boy trail inside after her mother, his mop of dark hair hanging about rounded features. He didn't greet her, choosing to linger around the door instead, just watching.

"Oh," her mother remembered. "This is Shawn. He's the new neighbor's son. He's helping me carry the groceries home. Say hello, Shawn."

"Hello."

The boy seemed far too serious for his age, but Claudia made no comment. Her mother had placed a small bottle in her hands.

"What's this?"

"It's from the pharmacy. You said you were having trouble sleeping. The doctor assured me that it will make your sleep dreamless without any ill side effects like drowsiness. I hate that about that dreadful orange tonic he sells, so I interrogated him thoroughly, I promise you."

"Ah, mom," Claudia smiled, giving the woman a hug. "Thanks."

She had been less than charitable in talking about her mother lately, and she couldn't really blame it on Dark's influence either. The guilt subsided as they shared a smile, the little glass bottle sitting innocently on her table.

"How's your day going?" she asked.

"Just fine. I hear you've been busy."

Oh dear. "Busy?"

"I have it on good report." Claudia inwardly groaned. "That you have been…I don't want to sound nosy, but you've been spending time with the carnival folks."

"Oh my god, mom," she sighed. "I am not about to run away with the carnival."

"That's not what I was going to say. When I say "folks" I mean that dark-suited man who was in here to get his suit fixed. Claudia, dear, do you know anything about him? It's not safe to be alone with a stranger like that. Please tell me that you haven't been spending time at the carnival when others aren't around." Claudia opened her mouth, but her mother wasn't finished. "You know I am concerned about your safety."

"My safety, virtue, or reputation?" Claudia deadpanned.

"Claudia, that is nothing to laugh about. Those traveling folks have loose morals from what I've heard. I can be concerned about all three at once."

"The carnival closes after tomorrow night. You have nothing to worry about."

It was a safe answer, or should mollify her mother for the time being at least. The woman did seem to relax a bit, but still clasped her purse straps a little too tightly.

"I hope you're not planning to go back. Honestly, what could make you want to spend time with a carnival showman over…"

"Charles?" Claudia suggested. "Mom, really. We don't have much in common. We never did."

"Neither did your father and I at first."

The woman was being serious, Claudia realized. Comments had always been dropped here and there, but never had it grown into more than the briefest of conversations. She didn't want to deal with this today. Any other day would be fine, just not today.

"It's not that I don't trust your judgment," her mother assured. "I just think your adventurous side gets the best of you sometimes. And…"

"You know what, mom?" Claudia interrupted. "I was having breakfast with Mr. Garrett M. Dark instead of going to church yesterday. I wasn't sick." The woman's mouth dropped open. "And I happen to think that a morning of sitting in the fields and enjoying life was more beneficial than any sermon I've ever heard. The pastor has never told me how to appreciate sunlight or risking…well, _this_ ," she swept her arms around the shop, "for anything that might be out there waiting, and I doubt he's had a meal with anyone that didn't already agree with him. How is he supposed to give me advice on how to live? He only knows one way of doing it."

"That is completely unfair," her mother floundered. "One doesn't need to be a homeless vagrant to know it's no kind of life to live."

"This isn't just about Dark, mom. And…and maybe I enjoy his company more than Charles's. Maybe Charles will never be as interesting. Isn't it hypocritical for you to spout about god being the only one with the authority to judge and then condemning an entire group of people because they're not exactly like us?"

Oh god, her mother was starting to cry. Claudia hurried to embrace the woman, breathing out a deep sigh. Any day but today. Any time but right now.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you like that."

Her mother gave her a squeeze and quickly stepped back, dabbing her eyes with the cloth that Claudia supplied.

"I should be going."

"Mom…"

"No, I can't…I cannot deal with this right now. Say nothing of this to your father. He doesn't need to hear it like I have."

Claudia leaned against the table as her mother left, glancing up to find Shawn lingering in the doorway. He stared at her in a manner unbefitting a child, and then ran after her mother. Claudia could only sink onto a stool and finger the edges of her forgotten book.


	10. Night 6

**NIGHT 6**

The glass bottle pressed against her lips, its contents emptying down her throat with a cold and bitter taste. It was absolutely disgusting.

Grimacing as she swallowed, Claudia set on the edge of her bed, the window shut against the sounds of the carnival. Tomorrow was the last night, and then she wouldn't need to think about all of these strange occurrences again. There was no one to tell anyway. The sheriff would laugh at her, and others would say they'd always known something was a little different about her. It would ruin her shop.

She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. In the darkness, she felt a slight buzz in her gut, perhaps the sleeping draught. A dreamless sleep would be the best she could do for the night. She yearned for it as drowsiness overtook her, slowly followed by growing warmth.

Her eyes snapped open to find her bed swaying. She was on a train, she realized. Countryside bathed in moonlight passed the windows, the gentle rocking making her yearn for sleep even more. It was perfect. If only the train would slow down a bit so she could see the castle in the distance more clearly.

Immediately, the train halted.

She smiled and hopped from bed, moving to the window and willing it to open. She could climb out if she wanted to. There was a ladder waiting for her. All she had to do was go, and she could venture anywhere she pleased. That the castle morphed into a carnival tent didn't matter. She only knew that she had to get there. She would find what she wanted, if only she could get to those lights.

Claudia's eyes jerked open again, the train and scenery gone. She was back in her bedroom, breathing hard. It had been a dream, nothing but a dream. The urge to find the carnival, however, remained. Her whole body burned with longings that tore her in different directions. She fumbled for the glass of water she always kept on the bedside table, guzzling it down between gulps of air.

"I'm not going," she said aloud. "I'm not thinking clearly. I'm not going."

"Really, Claudia?"

She gasped to find Dark at the foot of her bed, watching her. He wore only his shirt and trousers, hands unbuttoning the shirt as he spoke. She couldn't move as he rounded the corner, drawing near her.

"You shouldn't be here," she quietly spoke.

"So tell me to leave."

The shirt dropped to the floor, revealing tattoos that climbed up his arms and over his shoulders. She imagined his back was covered as well, but not his chest. The trail of hair down his front drew her eyes lower. Didn't his words sound familiar from somewhere? Like a cheap novel she'd once read?

"Miss Green," he purred. "I think you would find pushing the boundaries a little further most gratifying."

His hands ran up her sides, drawing her nightgown with them. Desire pooled in her body, head swimming with emotion. His gaze had always been so focused and sharp, and now it scorched over her naked chest. She couldn't tell him to stop. His beard brushing against her face felt too good, the heat of his body seeping into her own. Her hands rose and encircled his neck, her mouth determined to taste the smoke on his lips.

* * *

Dark released the woman's hand, ushering her into the dust witch's domain. The tent closed behind them, not a single sound intruding on the nervous woman who eagerly sat before the witch's crystal ball.

"You are here to see the future," the witch hummed.

"Not for me. For my daughter."

Dark's lips stretched into a satisfied smile. It was about time after helping the woman carry her vegetables home. Carrying the load as a child had been even more degrading, as if he were some obedient pack mule.

The witch acknowledged him with a flick of her eyes.

"You may leave, child. She is in good hands."

He hadn't planned to stay anyway. He eagerly left the tent, making his way to the carousel and Cooger. It would have been faster if a sudden heat hadn't run down his legs. Claudia's intense yearnings staggered his steps, unprepared for it as he was. Then followed the sweet intoxication of her turmoil and desperation. She was so close to caving, and the torture of those dreams would bring her here for true fulfillment.

He resumed his path, marveling that her thrashings continued to escalate. There was a brief downturn, and he wondered whether it was his own blood in the potion that made the connection so potent. Normally, it was much harder to sense cravings across the town, away from the heart of his little kingdom.

He entered the carousel tent, unsuspecting of the blow that shot down his spine. The feeling continued to worm its way lower, like hands caressing his skin and then tugging at his pants. He had barely climbed onto the platform before the force of the illusion struck him. Holy fucking Christ and his bitch of a mother too.

He grew hard as he snarled at Cooger.

"What are you waiting for?"

The man blinked in surprise before turning on the machine.

The metamorphosis didn't help with the throes of longing that Claudia was throwing at him. He felt lips wrap around his shaft, tugging at the skin as he commanded her to run her tongue along the underside. His hips were probably rocking into the air from where he laid on the carousel platform, the carnival music clashing so jarringly with the slow, methodical licks caressing him.

He was going to lose it with Cooger watching. Not many sordid thoughts bothered him, but this was one he could skip.

The illusion shifted, and he was on top of her, pushing her into a mattress. He ground his teeth together and vowed to tell the dust witch just what he thought of her methods. _He_ was not the one to be put under illusions. How dare the bitch try to play him when she depended on him for survival.

The carousel stopped rotating, and he tumbled from it, struggling to control himself.

"Out of the way," he growled, storming past Cooger.

* * *

There would be no more sleep tonight. Claudia sat by the stove, waiting for the teakettle to sing. She was truly awake now, and dreaded returning to sleep, even as the possibility of another tryst whispered in her ear. She couldn't believe how her imagination had contorted—couldn't believe that she'd wrapped her mouth around a man. She'd never even seen a full grown man naked before, except by accident when she'd walked in on Mark changing for the river. She'd had no idea that a woman might do what her dream self had.

Dark's fingers still ghosted through her hair when she thought about it too deeply. It had ended with him on top of her, the train swaying beneath them as he promised to show her Venice.

The kettle's sharp whistle startled her. She rose and turned off the stove, but not before the phone rang. It was far too late for a social call.

She yanked the phone from its perch.

"Hello? This is Claudia."

"Thank god, sweetheart. Have you seen your mother?"

"It's 1:00 am, dad. I haven't seen her since this morning."

Something had happened. Her fingers curled against the receiver, fear rising in her throat.

"I don't know where she is," her father confessed. "I haven't seen her since 7:00, when she went to visit your sister. I called there, but she never told them anything about a visit. I just got done looking around town, and there's not a soul outside."

"I'll take a look, dad. You should stay home. Did you talk to the sheriff?"

"He's not answering the phone. I should have called earlier when the office was open. I just thought that she'd decided to spend the night with the grandkids and forgot to say. I didn't think she was missing."

"Okay," Claudia breathed, thinking. "Can sis look on your side of town? I'm going to look over here—the, um, schoolyard and carnival. Please stay home dad. I'm sure we'll find her."

"Take someone with you," he said. "I don't want you out alone in case something happens. I can be there in a minute.

"No, dad. I can handle it. I'll take someone with me. You've got to stay home and mind your leg. I'll call back soon. If I don't, you should send someone to the carnival."

The phone hit its hook with a loud bang. There was only one place to look, and as she changed into pants and a dark blouse, she quaked to think of it. There was no reason for mother to go to the carnival though, and if there were suppressed longings in her mom's soul, she prayed Dark had never glimpsed them. Pulling her boots on, she lingered near the cabinet. It took a moment of consideration before she grabbed the baseball bat from inside. She'd never actually had to handle it before. She'd forgotten it was there.

 _What are you going to do with a bat, Claudia?_

Her nerves danced with anxiety as she stole through the town, skirting the carnival to see if any tents remained lit. A few workers sat outside their shared quarters, lantern light casting their shadows against canvas, but by and large, nothing moved. The rides and stands stood empty and still, and nothing hinted at where her mother might be.

Her heart felt a tug toward the mirror maze, and then that gray tent that warned of other dangers. Her mouth ran dry. Perhaps whatever had affected her at home was still playing with her perception, making her eager to approach the grounds.

She had to find mother though. There was no choice.

She ran for the closest tent, creeping between it and others. Some revealed snoring, others nothing but silence. It was a purple tent that most caught her eye, the colorful ribbons around its doorway swaying in the night air. A faint glow beckoned her ever closer.

A woman lay on the carpeted ground, hands neatly folder over her stomach.

"Mom," Claudia whispered, rushing forward and seizing the woman's shoulders. There was no response. Her mother's eyes remained closed, her body unresponsive. The strange light came from the crystal clutched in folded hands, its glow seeping between fingers.

"She won't wake until I allow it," a female voice whispered.

Claudia jerked around to find the woman of silk blocking her exit. She lifted the bat, sweaty palms pressed against wood.

"What did you do to her?"

"Now, now," the woman soothed. "Don't upset yourself. She breathes still."

"Where's Dark?"

"He comes."

The woman sighed, slowly stepping aside and whispering low under her veil. Claudia considered hitting her with the bat—wondered if that would undo whatever sorcery held her mother. Sorcery? Good god she couldn't believe she was here, sweat dripping down her neck as darkness blotted out the doorway.

"Good evening, Miss Green."

"What did you do to her? You're not taking her."

Dark approached, slowly pulling his gloves off and tossing them onto a table. In the darkness, his face was hidden. Only his voice commanded the shadows.

"So you know more than you betrayed," he mused. "I wouldn't have guessed, the way you invited yourself to breakfast."

"I didn't know then."

"Know what exactly?" he smiled. "You're not even sure, are you?"

She bit her tongue, brandishing the bat at him as he moved closer.

"Please, Claudia. We're above bludgeoning each other here." His hand shot out, wrenching the bat from her grasp before shoving her backwards so she stumbled. "Lights," he ordered, and candles flickered to life, revealing draped curtains of every color and glittering crystals.

"Your mother is a simple woman," he said. "Can you guess what heartbreak plagues her most? She wants nothing more than for you to be settled and secure in a boring life. She wants you to be like your sister: dreamless beyond the child bouncing on her knees."

"Please, Mr. Dark. Just let her go."

"You don't wish to hear more? How unexpectedly dull of you. You see, your mother eagerly lapped up a promise of your future, and now she's mine. I crafted the most exquisite vision for her: you, married to a very _nice_ man, and with no less than two children bumbling around her legs. She loved that part—relinquished her soul readily, even though we'd hardly begun to excavate the inner workings of her heart. I didn't even get a chance to toy with her sorrow over the child her body rejected before you came along. Her price was much lower, so there she found herself, attending your wedding with the love of a mother. Then came the news of your unhappy, miserable marriage to a man that closed your shop. You are miserable in her world now, and she knows it. She knows that you hate her for her valiant efforts at pairing you to a suitable young man."

"Oh my god," Claudia exhaled, tears welling up behind her eyes.

"That's where she is now—the price she paid. She has no idea it isn't true. She might, dare I say, choose to outcast herself over the sorrow and join the carnival."

"You bastard," Claudia managed.

"I am many things, but not that," Dark countered, utterly calm as he backed her into the curtains. "I admit her pain is not nearly as exquisite as others might be. Some people are just…" His hand lifted, touching her cheek, "wound so tightly beneath the surface. Regardless," he dismissed, snapping his hand back, "she is mine, and I'll keep her tortured soul until I grow tired of it and end her life."

"There has to be something you want more than her," Claudia begged. "Please. Let her go. What must I do for you to let her go?"

Dark's smile was lean and real.

"You are in no position to barter. You won't leave this tent without my permission."

"No, but you don't own me, not like her. She accepted the illusion. She took a deal. I haven't." He studied her, expression focused and unmoving. "There must be something you want more than her."

"I will accept a trade," he relented. "You for her."

"What reassurance do I have that you'll really let her go?"

"I give you my word."

"I don't trust your word."

"But you agree to the deal." She balked. "Say it," he ordered.

"I agree that if you let me take my mother home and she is fully released, never to be troubled by you again, I will return to make the exchange. I won't accept anything from you until I come back."

Dark yanked her forward, bringing her against his chest as he opened a palm in her face. She stared at the image there, a perfect tattoo of her own face.

"I can find you, wherever you go," he darkly promised. "You've made a deal."

He allowed her to step away and kneel by her mother. The woman stirred, mumbling as Claudia helped her stand. There was a mindlessness to her mother's movements, as though she could steer her anywhere she liked.

"You have an hour," Dark intoned. "Be quick."

Claudia nodded in understanding, but said nothing. She focused on leading her mother outside, the woman mumbling apologies under her breath the entire time.

"Come on," Claudia encouraged her. "It's okay. I don't hate you."

"My fault," her mother quietly sobbed.

There was nothing more to calm the woman as they walked through the deserted streets. If anyone noticed from their homes, not a door nor window opened. It was when they'd passed the first two blocks that her mother's movements became more conscious and less mechanical. By the time they reached the other side of town, she was fighting Claudia's guidance, struggling to wake from the nightmares that gripped her.

"Claudia?"

Her mother's eyes snapped fully open, confusion evident as she latched onto her daughter with both arms, embracing her.

"It's okay, mom. You're okay now. It was a dream."

"I thought…I don't know what I thought. You were married, but he treated you so badly. You weren't the same anymore!"

"Shhh. We're almost home. Let's get inside. It wasn't real."

Her mother was still crying as they reached the front porch, her father bursting from the door and pulling his wife to him.

"She was at the carnival," Claudia explained, her mother too hysterical to speak. "She took a pretty hard knock to the head."

"Let's get both of you inside," her father smiled. "We'll need to wake you throughout the night dear, in case it's a concussion. Claudia, would…where are you going?"

She paused at the bottom of the porch steps, barely illuminated by the light.

"Dear, you must stay," her mother insisted.

"I can't. Charles helped me find you, and he left to tell sis that everything's okay. He'll be looking for me to make sure I get home safely. I'll see you tomorrow."

The words grated her throat, constricting it as her parents protested once more before wishing her well and insisting that she return for breakfast. Claudia's empty promises sank in the night, her footsteps soft in the darkness. Perhaps there was a chance, she thought. There was no telling whether Dark's magic had worn off because of their deal or because of the distance, but she saw a glimmer of escape. After all, he'd always tried to get her to the carnival. He'd drawn other people there as well, and everything she'd seen outside of dreams had taken place on the carnival grounds.

Could she outrun them in this small town for two more days? Would they even bother to try if she simply stayed at the sheriff's under some guise of being in danger?

The shadows around her shifted, clawing at her footsteps as she rushed home. She grabbed her savings and shoved them into a bag with extra clothing. She could leave tomorrow on the first train possible if nothing else.

A sharp wind blew her bedroom window open, and a clattering scurried across the roof. Her heart pounded as hard as her feet as she ran for the front door only to have it slam open, the hinges shaking.

"We had a deal, Claudia!"

She spun and ran in the opposite direction. Something smashed behind her, the sound of breaking glass barely registering as she fell from the window. She stumbled to the ground and took off, never looking back as she tore down the street. She couldn't go to anyone's home. God knew what Dark would do to them for helping her. There was really only one obvious answer, the steeple ahead of her urging her onward.

The church was never locked for any reason. Its door opened easily for her, sealing behind her with a quiet thud that echoed in the worship chamber. Rows of pews surrounded her, the balcony overhead where the organ sat barely illuminated by moonlight through the tall windows. She slowed her breathing and crouched between two pews in the middle of the room. She was in sprinting distance of both the rear staircase, which led to the basement, and the front door.

Maybe no one would come here to look for her. She had no idea how long she sat there, peering at the front door until it silently opened. Dark strolled inside without his cane, black on black in the shadows. Measured steps carried him through streams of moonlight, revealing the scanning turns of his head.

"I know you're here," he spoke. "Do you really think that you can simply walk away from our deal? I am many things, my dear Miss Green, but passive is not one of them."

She listened to each footstep. Each breath from his lips. She rolled under the pews, slowly working her way to the front door while he neared the front of the church, where the altar sat, the pulpit behind it.

"Ah, the seat of god in this town," he commented, setting his hands on the altar's carved border. "My parents were devout, so devout that they locked me in my room for days as punishment for the simplest of tricks. Alone. Isolated with every verse in the good book read at me as my bedtime stories. Murdering children and raping their mothers. Wholesome entertainment, god's precious word."

He lifted a vase of flowers from the altar and smashed it into the wall.

"What's the saying?" he demanded. "Spare the rod; spoil the child. Misbehaving was the devil's work, or so ma and pa wished to impress upon me. Impress it they did."

Claudia reached the front door, but found it locked. She exhaled and turned to find his back to her. There was a spark of fire as he lit a cigarette. Determined, she yanked the door with all her strength, not caring if he heard. The door shuttered, but did not budge.

"It's pointless, Claudia."

He'd finished and turned to face her, leaning against the altar behind him.

"What are you?"

"So you haven't figured it out entirely then. We are the autumn people. We hear your wishes and desperate cries and feed upon them. There is nothing so sweet as nursing despair—nothing as delicate as the aspirations yearning to burst from the human heart. It's people like your mother that jump into our nooses, filling our plates."

"You're a demon."

"Oh no," he dryly chuckled. "Something else entirely."

He snuffed his cigarette on the altar and descended on her. If she moved left, he followed. To the right, and he blocked it. Frustrated, she threw a hymnal at him.

"Now you're just being childish," he scorned.

She made a break for the back of the church, having no other option. He easily caught her, tackling her into the wall as she pounded her fists against him to no avail. He was pressed against her, holding her arms down at her sides.

"You're weaker here," Claudia breathed.

"Still stronger than you." A burning pain seared up her arms, stealing her breath as she squirmed against him. Her continued fighting led him to slam her into the wall, breathing heavily into her face. "I will have you, Claudia," he promised. "One way or another, you belong to the autumn people now, and I'd gladly sacrifice ten souls in exchange for yours."

Claudia was growing more subdued in his grasp, pain and fatigue building.

"Isn't this just business?" she exhaled, vision blurring.

"Sweet, sweet Claudia. You are still a novice at life."

He hauled her toward the door, looping her arm through his in a vice like grip. She recalled little else before losing consciousness.


	11. Day 7

**DAY 7**

Claudia awoke to the feel of cotton and chains. Her cheek was pressed into a blanket, the air around her quiet and still. Dawn was just breaking through the tent's doorway, casting soft light across layered carpets and furniture. There were two traveling trunks, suits neatly hung on a rope line, a four-post bed, and table set. Dark sat at the table, quietly drinking from a steaming cup, but paying her no attention. She took the opportunity to study the rest of the room.

She was on a low cot across from the door, and still in her clothing from the night before. She was barefoot now, the unmistakable chill of metal touching her ankles. Her wrists were also manacled and connected by a short chain. Walking would be possible, but not running.

She shifted to better gauge how much chain length her ankles had.

"I would wish you a good morning, but you haven't slept well," Dark intoned. "It's going to be a very long day for you."

He stood and poured a second cup of coffee, drawing closer as she wobbled into an upright position. She must have struggled against the cuffs at some point, for chaffing marks burned her wrists. Dark held out the cup to her, and she was sorely tempted to deny the gesture.

"I suggest you take it," he spoke. "I promise nothing's been added."

She took the cup, tentatively sipping at the hot liquid. It felt good against the cool morning air.

"Someone will look for me," she stated.

"I think not. It's been taken care of." Her head shot upward. "No one you love has been harmed, I assure you. I did promise to leave your dear mother alone as part of our deal—a deal which still stands." He went back to the table and lifted a book from it, one that he'd clearly taken from her shop. "I would think that you know better from your readings, but hope springs eternal, as they say."

"What exactly do you want from me?" Claudia ventured. "You can't trick me with illusions. I know your game now."

"Was it a trick when I returned your teacher's leg? No, it was real. He walks, jumps, even skips, or would if he still had such playful inclinations. There are two ways to do this, Miss Green. I can keep you chained here and ply your fears and desires until you crack, or you can choose to become the outcast yourself. One let's you keep your mind and spirit. You can hang off the train cars and watch the world go by in all its splendor and variation. Or," he lowered his voice, "you can be a shell of a puppet, fighting with the rest for a few crumbs of misery to fuel your cravings."

She imagined a world of joining willingly. If it meant keeping her soul intact, what would keep her from slipping away at the next town, or the next? Maybe she could play the game and see when a chance presented…

"Do you think I haven't anticipated any moves you might make?" he interrupted her thoughts. "It's not so simple. Believe me. The power of this place doesn't pass without a permanent mark. There will be no running away when my head is turned."

She focused on the way his hand moved, taking her empty cup. She could see now that his tattoos were moving, however slowly at the moment. Wind billowed in a ship's sails while a woman worked her crochet needles.

"This is an opportunity for you," Dark suggested. "You are forcing me to make it sound so dour and tasteless, but I can be generous. Would it really be terrible to have your dreams for such little cost to yourself?"

"My soul is little cost?" Claudia incredulously blurted.

"You are failing to see the generosity in my offer. You remember the cook, I'm sure, the churl that so maliciously spilled coffee on your arm. He was a kind man once. Now he is dependent on the carnival for survival. His soul has been ripped out and eaten by his fellows, and it has left him a husk. They are soulless creatures. Do not mistake all of us as the same groveling breed. Do you see anyone here to dissect my soul? Do I strike you as soulless? Directionless?"

He lifted her chin with one hand, pulling her from contemplation.

"How old are you?" she breathed.

"Eighty, last I bothered counting."

"But not a demon."

"No. I'm very much a man—something that I believe you're intimately familiar with."

She blushed furiously. Did he know about her dream? The fingers under her chin slid away, his lean frame calling a thousand touches to mind. She wasn't going to think about this though, especially with him standing right there.

"The sleeping draught," she realized. "You gave it to my mother."

"She cares deeply for you. It wasn't difficult to convince her of its worth."

A worker entered with a tray, and set it on the table. The smell of bacon wafted across the tent, making her mouth water. She hadn't eaten since an early supper yesterday.

"Are you hungry?" Dark asked. "You must be. I will leave you to breakfast. It is the carnival's last day, and preparations are needed. A parade, I think, would help win a good turnout for the finale. You have the day, Claudia, to make your decision. I advise you make it carefully."

He grabbed his hat and cane, and paused in the doorway.

"Do not be so foolish as to leave this tent. If you need assistance, just speak and someone will come."

* * *

She'd fallen asleep several times, each time waking to find sunlight still in the sky. True to his word, calling for assistance brought a carnival worker in seconds. She was almost warier of them than Dark after the incident with the cook. The man who appeared to escort her to the bathroom was dressed in overalls, an oily rang hanging from his back pocket. She'd seem him operating the ferris wheel previously, and wondered if he'd been a mechanic in his former life as well.

She did not call for assistance thereafter. The uncanny vibe most of them exuded now that it'd been brought to her attention left her anxious to get away. Peeking outside the tent revealed that someone was always watching.

It was around lunch, when she sat on the cot with a sandwich, that pale pinks drifted into the tent. It was the witch, strings of pearls draped in her tightly coiffed hair.

"You will make a wonderful assistant," the witch said.

A card flew across the room, settling on the carpet by Claudia's feet. It was her, but dressed in purple robes, a third eye drawn on her forehead. She refused to touch the vile thing, glaring at the witch instead.

"I'll never be your assistant."

The witch drifted away without a word.


	12. Night 7

**NIGHT 7**

Night was quickly approaching. Sunset could not be far off when the carnival music started playing, and still, Claudia could not make a decision. Perhaps there was still a chance that she might slip away while the workers engaged the crowds.

She partly wondered if her future with the carnival would truly be as bleak as imagined, so long as she retained her true self, but Dark had not explained what her role would actually be. Did he intend to make her the witch's assistant, to lure visitors inside with palm readings? The thought revolted her, but if her soul were sucked dry, there would be no choice left to her. She couldn't imagine hurling people into the abyss by choice either though. It made her ache with horror.

The train, she mused. She could see herself hanging off a train car with the wind in her hair. And the possibility of what might happen at night, in the four-post bed beside her…well, she didn't even know what to make of that. She blushed just to think of approaching Dark, the man who'd stolen her mother away. Besides, it had been a dream. Only a dream. She shouldn't want the man to touch her at all.

She looked up as figures entered the tent, three women draped in the baggy, revealing clothing of dancers. She'd expected Dark by now, not this.

"Did Dark send you?" she asked.

They glanced between themselves beneath heavily painted eyelids, veils draped over and obscuring the movement of their lips.

"You are pretty enough," one decided.

"We will take care of you."

"Fix you. Give Mr. Dark something pretty to look at."

Claudia felt a bit ugly before the beauties with their plump lips and chests. Jewels and gold-nets weaved through their hair, and bangles jingled with their movements. They moved gracefully, as if prepared to launch into a dance, their hips swaying more than necessary. Claudia shied away from the one reaching for her, only to have all three forcefully pull her to her feet.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Shhh," one hushed in her ear. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

"Dark," the same woman spat with such venom that Claudia winced, "does not know we are here. You will keep your mouth shut."

They stripped Claudia of her clothing, leaving her to awkwardly attempt to cover herself with her hands. They only giggled and batted them aside, somehow making the chains at her ankles and wrists clatter to the ground.

"Silly man," one chuckled. "We are the ones to place the chains. They know our touch."

Claudia sputtered a protest as they began dressing her. This was her chance at escape! She could dart outside once dressed, but it was difficult to gauge just what the end result would be. They refused to let her look in Dark's dressing mirror, turning her this way and that. One braided her hair, winding gold thread through it, while another snapped anklets around her pale skin.

"You are autumn people," Claudia said. "Where did you come from?"

The women exchanged looks, and one even checked to see if anyone was outside the tent.

"We were like you once, but I barely remember what it was like," one finally whispered.

"Better to be dead than remember," another chimed in.

"We are here to draw men of lust in. They want us so badly we can hear their blood sing. They like to dance with us. Maybe you will dance with us too?"

Claudia shivered at the finger trailing its way down her now exposed midriff. She wanted their hands off of her, but they only shared amused glances.

"You're not for us," one leveled. "You want someone else. The boss."

"I don't…"

Their mocking chuckles made her swallow the words. She didn't want him. She didn't want to be here with them dressing her as some ornament. She really didn't want the sharp pricks that stabbed her earlobes as an unexpected surprise. She winced, unsure what they'd done as their hands steadied her.

"Your lust drew us here in the first place," one kissed across her ear. "Time to look."

Claudia gasped at her reflection. Her braid had been wound into a bun atop her head, and glittered with gold thread and red stones. Dangling stones hung from her ears as well, and a matching necklace graced her neck. Her stomach region was fully exposed, just like theirs, a perfect royal purple with a golden hem. A skirt flared around her legs in layers, the V of the waistline dipping uncomfortably low down her front. She had never imagined herself dressed thus, and could hardly believe the reflection her own as they clipped a small veil to cover the lower half of her face.

She touched a hand to layers of her skirt. They felt seductive—wrong, but thrilling. She almost felt she should thank them out of habit, if nothing else.

"Keep your kindness," the women scoffed, stepping away from her as if she'd burned them. She turned quizzically, and one recoiled even further from her.

"Come with us," one of them hesitantly beckoned. "No one will recognize you."

"No one to see you leave," another wickedly grinned.

Claudia didn't need invited twice. She followed them from the tent, drawing no attention as they drifted through the crowd. Her heart raced as she passed Mark and Susan. They didn't recognize her—would never guess that such exotic dress would grace her body. She'd never felt more physically exposed in her life. There was no way she would look convincing if the other women departed.

Having no intention of joining them, she drew back and slipped between rides. When she glanced over her shoulder, they were waving with gleaming eyes. Their hands quickly dropped, however, their expressions settling into grim lines as they suddenly ran into the crowd. Claudia quickened her step, catching sight of Dark looming over the scene.

She ran, but not fast enough. Arms wrapped around her, drawing her against him as her legs suddenly fell lethargically weak. It was only his grip that kept her upright.

"I see you've been playing with the whores," he mocked, his beard scratching up the side of her neck. "Come along."

He turned her, one arm around her waist as she helplessly felt her legs respond. His power reverberated down her body, a static charge that made her skin sizzle.

The witch appeared in their path.

"Cooger can handle the finale," Dark said without preamble.

The tent drew closer, warm light greeting Claudia as he ripped the door flap shut behind them. She spun and caught her breath, tensing her legs against the lingering effect of his magic. He merely stood there, gaze raking over every inch of exposed skin. She'd never seen a man look at her like that before, not with such intensity. That she could evoke the response made her stomach tighten with more than nervousness.

"How do I look?" she quietly exhaled.

"Marvelous." But he sounded like the weather might be more interesting.

He tossed his hat and jacket aside to the race of her pulse. Two steps closed the gap between them, his hand curling around the back of her neck. She could look nowhere else but his eyes.

"Have you made your decision instead of running from it?" he demanded.

"I…I don't want my soul to be shred and fed to your dogs."

"Say exactly what you agree to, or that's exactly what will happen. It will keep your family safe. I might even be persuaded to let that bumbling knight in shining armor of yours go."

"What are you talking about?"

"I wasn't easy on poor Charles. It's too late for his happiness, but he could remain in town with what's left of his heart."

Charles, she lamented. The news stuck pins in her chest.

"Fine. I agree to join you of my own free will."

Dark's gaze darkened, a half-smile straining his face as his free hand curled into a fist. She watched her image curl around his wrist, her counterpart's hands running over her body. There was no third eye or purple robes. It was her in a summer dress, stars cradled in her hands. Dark exhaled, watching it with fascination.

"Now show me that you mean it," he threatened.

She was pulled flush against his body, her lips pressed tightly against his, caressing the soft flesh that bore down on her. He deepened his hold, grabbing her hips and pressing them closer to his front, spreading her legs open with one of his own. The friction had her blood pumping, reason fleeing when his lips moved to her throat.

"Your dream," he said, unclasping her clothing, "was a complete surprise. Who would have guessed that the tailor's creativity extended to other activities?"

She was left with only her jewelry, and his clothing quickly joined hers on the floor. Her blush could get no one intense as she viewed his full form, nor as he maneuvered her to the bed. The tattoos did indeed spread down his back. He leaned over her, his fingers ghosting down her stomach and between her legs.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "Dark."

"We've perhaps moved beyond the dignity of formality, don't you think?" he goaded. He twirled his fingers, making her hips buck upward. "You have permission to call me Garrett."

He removed his fingers and climbed between her legs, pushing her into the mattress none-too-gently. She wrapped her legs around him, and fumbled with where to put her hands.

"You'll get better with practice," he promised, silencing her whines with a kiss.

She didn't care what was happening outside the tent or to whom. She only cared about him rocking into her body, eliciting the headiest sensations that were so much better than even the dream. She could imagine him taking her again and again, and he told her as much. She couldn't take it any longer. Her insides clenched, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. His final thrusts followed some time later, sending wet warmth over her insides, the feeling a new one as he calmed down and withdrew.

He fell onto the bed beside her, staring at the ceiling. Claudia didn't know what was supposed to happen next, but she naturally reached for him, draping an arm across his chest. His eyebrows rose as he studied her, and she couldn't meet his gaze. It was…strange for someone to have seen her like that.

Maybe everything wouldn't be so terrible. She'd deeply enjoyed their banter and meetings before she'd known what he was. Perhaps he wouldn't be so different now that she knew.

Dark rose suddenly, retrieving his cigarette case and lighting up with his back to her. He smoked a good few minutes, the tattoos on his back writhing angrily, clawing at their neighbors. He turned on her then with dark eyes, advancing on the bed as she clutched the blankets to her chest.

"Here's a complication I never expected to encounter. You are bursting with surprises, Claudia. Even I had not anticipated you _liking_ me," he seemed to cringe at the word. Another puff of smoke, and he calmed down. "Women have lusted after me before. Some even know exactly what I am and still pant in heat, but you…What happened to corrupt those prettier dreams of yours? Were beaches and oceans too distant and unreal? You've envied my freedom since we met. Is that what happened? Do I embody your pathetic dreams, Claudia?"

His words stung. She felt a fool sitting their naked.

"The dancers," she realized. "They wouldn't let me touch them when I felt happier."

"The lowest of the low are weak when it comes to such things. Do not think you can harm me with such simple methods," Dark countered. "Your kindness is no weapon."

"Then do you want my hate?" she questioned, confused.

"…No."

He extinguished his cigarette and tossed it outside, redressing while she watched. It was in doing so that he noticed the tarot card on the floor. He lifted it, holding it up for her to see.

"Who brought this?"

"The witch." It turned to dust in his hands, crumbling to nothing. "Are you going to make me her assistant?"

" _Her_ assistant?" he darkly questioned. "No. You will quickly learn that she has no place here to make such decisions except that I allow it. The devil must have laughed when she handed me the reins."

He withdrew a bottle from the cabinet by his bed, swirling its amber contents before pouring two glasses. He extended one to her. One swallow was enough for her taste. It was much stronger than father's occasional beer.

"Is she the one who brought you to the carnival?" Claudia asked.

"There was no carnival. She was a traveling fortuneteller with a talent for ferreting out her targets."

Her curiosity spiked as he finished his glass.

"Did she ferret you out?" He didn't respond, but cast her a hardened expression. "What did she use to draw you in?"

"I had already sold my soul in deed if not deals by then. You are looking in the wrong place for answers. She no longer holds any power over me. The dreams of the pathetic man I once was are long gone. You are wasting good scotch," he added, sitting and leaning for her glass. She let him take it, although he did not drink it. "I have work yet tonight, and we leave early. If our friend the dust witch comes by, tell her that I'd like to speak with her."

Claudia didn't argue as he departed. She didn't feel any different now that her tattoo graced his arm, and curled into the blankets, listening to the pop of fireworks outside. The canvas roof flashed with the explosions, colors dancing across it, and people cheered and clapped. The majority would go home and never have any inkling that some among them had been changed forever. She fell asleep wondering what dreams had lured a young Garrett to the witch, and how the woman had twisted and tortured him.


	13. Ends and Beginnings

**Ends and Beginnings**

Ernest loved trains. He always had, and the black engine looming before him was a grand example. He wasn't boarding it, no, but mother and father always let him come to see them off. One day, he would ride a fancy engine just like the one before him. This one was extra special because of its cargo. The colorful railcars spoke of reptile shows and acrobatics, carousels and cotton candy. He hadn't ridden the carousel in the end, just as he'd promised Aunt Claudia that he wouldn't.

He was surprised to see her on the train platform, dressed to travel with a suitcase on the ground beside her. A clown bowed and took it from her, carrying it aboard.

Was she going with the carnival? That was too exciting. He burst to shout a greeting in her direction, wanting so desperately to go with her. Her head turned in his direction then, a warm smile splitting her face. She waved, and he might have run to her but for the intrusion of another.

Mr. Dark, in full regalia, had appeared beside him. Ernest jerked away in fright, but did not run. The man stared down at him, and then to the engine.

"It's magnificent, isn't he?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you will ride it one day."

"Is Aunt Claudia going with you?" he ventured, jealous.

"Yes." Dark said with a hidden smile. "Your aunt likes a good ride." She was watching them both with a concerned expression. "Farewell, Ernest, my boy. Maybe we'll visit here again one day. Look for the autumn carnival."

The man strolled away, straight to his aunt. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he whispered in her ear. It was the way father sometimes held mother, and Ernest made a face. Dark was looking at his aunt so intently, and she reached up and adjusted his tie in response. The man's lips stretched ever so slightly before he gave her a kiss, ushering her aboard.

Ernest shivered when Dark turned in his direction once more. There was knowledge in his stare, something uncanny as he grabbed the railcar's handle and pulled himself onto the train. He tipped his hat, and with the shriek of the whistle, the train lurched forward. Ernest watched it blaze into the distance, dreaming of adventure and travel.

It was in leaving the platform that he noticed a flyer on the ground. He picked it up and ran home as fast as he could, waving it in the air.

Dark and Green's Pandemonium Shadow Show.


End file.
